22 January 2007. Single gull dipping and turning against blue morning sky. Woman of middle years with small dog on leash--who turns his head just now and looks back up at her. They disappear around the corner. Earlier: wind against canvas sheeting over playing field fence--each gust sends giant ripple across the surface. Reading last night: concluding pages of Austerlitz. The Paris library, built on a ridge of pre-historic chalk--and the ruins of German warehouses for storing goods confiscated during the war--rugs, paintings, china, furs--stuff of bourgeois life. "It's a bourgeois town"--Lead Belly, around the same time--but he's talking about D.C. This morning--the Libby jury--hard to select. No one who speaks out against Bush acceptable. Song as weapon? No--just song as song. Reaching back into the past, the arms we most need...
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