So the swirling purple petals in the alley behind the Quarry are gone; but the lightning show was great. And the effluent coming down the drain from the roof was the dead in Night on Bald Mountain in Fantasia, coalescing into a scummy mass until the rain came again and pocked it leopard-like. Then the sun came out, then the rainbow tried to form. Then I walked home in the rain, met friends who were also walking in the rain and I knew my version of insanity was and is okay, walked down the middle of blocked-off Granite Street with impunity.
Posted on: Thu, 13 Jun 2013 01:43:45 +0000
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