Friday, August 10, 2007

Analect 2.150x



10 August 2007. Filtered morning sun, sparkling through pearl cloud. Ulica Glogera--a small street in Warszawa, curving, pre-war...the general's house, an older man in darkened rooms, laconic, gruff. Emblems of a cossack past--curving saber slung above the mantle, ancestral pictures in heavy wooden frames. So why did I leave him the Dr. John album--Gris Gris, I think--as if to bring the centuries into alignment, collision...

As with our arrival at Friday Harbor, spring of 1964--songs pouring forth from speakers on the deck of the long white schooner--She Loves You--dappled northern waters--I Want to Hold Your Hand...

Women of La Bretagne, white headcoverings, heavy skirts and clogs... Each gathering a kind of necessity. Pèlerinage...

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