The last photograph is the most perfect photograph, to remedy the pains rushing art essays and music compositions at four thirty am on a school night will inflict. This is the life; didn't anyone tell you?
(Comme un tendre et triste regret is the section of Debussy's prelude that is keeping me up. That, and my humming of other unrecognisable songs. TEEs should come with a warning label, but only for insomniacs. Good children needn't worry.)