Thursday, January 29, 2015


Every morning I see the wind. I see it wrap itself around the leaves and dance with them. And every morning I think perhaps I will write about the wind, but I can't write about the wind every day. It makes me think of young lovers on the park bench like in that old Nolan Strong number. It makes me think of wicked winds a coming and evil carnivals coming with them. But mostly it makes me think of a certain woman and pictures of her riding a tram on a certain day and the way I felt watching the wind that day. Duke Ellington was drifting out loud and clear from the house and the sun was shining and I could feel a phantasmic current connecting us across the city and I felt buoyant and serene and on a plateau of pleasure and contentment that is rare indeed.

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