5 August 2010. Beautiful gray morning, fresh shirt... No immediate rips or tears in the collar, wavery lines. Dressed for success (!)
That's the kind of thing they say. But what if you're living in the Zen Center, waking each morning at five for a bowl of tea, buddhist chants--and then off to your gig downtown as an fledgling investment banker, zipping up to the 35th floor... View over the bay, Marin hills....fog pouring in through the Golden Gate. Or Natasha, out farther on the bluffs, where silent guns awaited enemy ships, Fort Point--drawing trees...
A delight, yesterday, with the Russians, and their companions, veering from song to story to poem. Brodsky's taut lines--in Viktor's voice--a nice insistent edge...
Andrea--grace.
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