Turns out immurement is a word. Who knew?
Actually the literary reference I used on Annabel last time was not from Poe, but from a letter Herman Melville wrote to Nathaniel Hawthorne: "your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God's." Poor Herman with his fond cannibals and his love letters full of food. I know what you were after, Herman. It was the dissolution of the self into the other, and vice versa. Did you ever get it? Not with Hawthorne you didn't: you scared him away with all that your-heart-beat-in-my-ribs talk and comparing him to a grape. But I think it sounds nice. That's what sex is a glorious doomed endeavor to create, isn't it -- unity out of duality?
Speaking of fleshly lust, there's still time to order your Valentine's Day cards from the Small Peculiar store. Maybe for next year I'll illustrate some of the stuff Herman wrote to Nathaniel. "Whence come you, Hawthorne? By what right do you drink from my flagon of life? And when I put it to my lips -- lo, they are yours and not mine."
Poor Herman. You kind of can't blame Hawthorne for finding that kind of thing off-putting, though.
Lastly, as a bonus, and because I can't stop staring at them, please enjoy two ever-so-velvety Monday monotremes (courtesy of mendel).
There is no "official" term for a baby platypus, though the word platypup is sometimes used. Appropriate, as they look like bulldog puppies with webbed feet and fake bills tied on with string.