![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMefm6cxXbX4DLAZn0cYrgUAwszpbI6-IPmJTeS-gQ-kdMUJUIw1c6oUua2LYXJ3uCuKj9dDwOGour5highrQzKgIrlIy5LIlwxj4IuIzUHqwQFysn4geWUo3Vc8vVxCo469R_XA/s400/Analect2.239x.jpg)
28 February 2008. Golden light subsumes the 7-eleven--that moment, early spring. Narrow girl in black tights, shades, loping across parking lot, climbs into tiny late-model Honda, swinging wide onto Solano. Expansive gray puff of cigarette visible through glass. Freedom, an ancient idea. Like Hart Crane, his window over Brooklyn, or Roebling before him--the pirate's glass--Columbia Heights, spyglass onto the East River, progress noted: each bolt, each cable end, attached and fastened, iron swing, chastened stone...
Gowanus, Red Hook, the Jersey Shore...
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