To: The Boss
Date: December 6
Sunday morning has become a ritual of going out in the rain to get doughnuts and the Sunday Times. Then everybody comes over. In the process, I glean all kinds of information.
What luxury, this bourgeois peace!
I am, as Mona said, an aristocrat.
I want to capture her like a rare bird to keep me company. Let her sing to me, all the time.
Overhead, two very earthy vapor-like streaks turn muddy green.
Acceptance of contradictions is a lesson in seeking serenity.
Crumbs drop on our faux oriental carpet.
Paul, a Greek, has been completely overwhelmed by the intensity of our lives.
Ups are always followed by downs. Yes, I know, remember the Wright Brothers.
For the full story, click here: BIG INCA.