O. Henry’s Message to his readers, ca. 1908.
To my way of thinking, that’s a waste of good time!
O. Henry’s Message to his readers, ca. 1908.
To my way of thinking, that’s a waste of good time!
The sunset was almost enough to make romantics of us. I grasped his hand, compelled by nature to some kind of entry-level giddiness. I un-curled my toes and kicked the cool sand; it rained lightly over furtively scrambling ghost crabs. The dog whined on-leash. Bending over, a head pat; standing up on tip-toes, a hug and quick caress. Then one of us broke the sustained peace of the ocean breeze and lapping waves with a bad joke or punch on the arm. Ha, back to normal we went. Quickly, inward, like a collapsing house of cards. Laughing. Unromantic and inappropriate. Wisecracking. Bantering like Grant and Hepburn. Our normal. Content.
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“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”-Sylvia Plath
The direct nature of old architecture appeals to me: a glance transports you to another time, and a different way of life. Your imagination is free to conjure a dozen or a hundred scenarios or conversations, sometimes in mere seconds. I walk past these handsome buildings three days a week. They reside on one of the ugliest streets in the city proper. Hemmed in by nondescript banks, a mall where no one shops, and a hideous parking garage that mercilessly casts its blight to the East and West, they are easy to miss. I’ve seen them again and again, out of the corner of a careless eye. Distracted. Too busy. Focused on a destination or a passing thought. On Monday, I finally took the time to see them. It was only for a minute or two, while standing under a canopy as my best friend withdrew money from an ATM. The weird angle is a reflection of my short stature, deep concentration, and unwillingness to find a better shot. Sense of place and ambiance are acutely important to me. The necessity of feeling a connection to my surroundings is one of the odder factors in my struggle to become a better writer. It’s one of the things I have the toughest time handling, this lack of rootedness to where I live. I’m glad that I finally took the time to become better acquainted with this trio. The slideshow image is the result, a visual memory of an important moment in my deepening relationship with this city.
“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.”-Oscar Wilde
Ray Bradbury
“She’s been there and left the metaphor for death.”
I’m a city girl but I like my urban living with a side of greenery, please. I like to call it tree tourism. We visited this handsome fella and several of his friends last week. You cannot tell from this photograph that the countryside is miles away. Hop in the car and three minutes later you are in the shadow of a different kind of titan, all concrete and steel and cold comeliness.
*”And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.”-William Shakespeare