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27 July 2007. Gray all the way, slight chill in the air, heading into November... Yesterday: column of fog in the distance, pouring over Marin hills and across the bay. Shifty forms of city lost in the distance. Evening before: walk with Loren and Libbe after supper, down road to bridge. Manzanita and madrone, California white oak, sparse stands of pine. Red twists of fire-wood pulled around shaft of conifer--a pinned embrace, digging in through the bark, the two trees become one. Something drawable, yes, that connection--like Loren's narrow splines embedded in the trunk--bridging checks and fissures, linking across, worked down to round face of wood, burnished, until the two materials are joined, absolute, imperfect...
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