7 December 2007. Golden morning after a long night's rain. Glistening on gray streets. A long spider strand holds the light for just a moment--gleaming against dark mansard roof across the way. Delivery truck in low gear, passing. Man with high forehead, hand to chin, propped in cab of double Dodge truck, dark dark green, moving uphill...
All views possible. Like last night, with Benjamin's wall of scrawly drawings, ear to ear, gears and faces, made personal by a particular unexpected intensity. A table of food--Nathaniel's cheeses, chocolate--a respite of luxury, alongside (my) plebian wine. Las Españolas, their whispery voices, quizzical, enchanting--a sea bird flying up the face of a cliff, wings spread wide. Ptarmigan, gull. Hanukkah candles--the third night, on a homely cardboard menorah with tin-foil doily, which I see lighted suddenly from across the room. Hojin's embarrassed smile--"It was me." And why not? Three candles, each one waiting. We make the blessings. How could they not burn?
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