Eight o’clock.
I ran into Scott the cab driver at the market a half hour ago. He was checking his lottery tickets for a win. Also there was a gas station attendant behind me in line, and I saw a few women there. The clouds were beautiful, white, gray, and peach, as if painted by an artist. I stopped in the middle of the street to look at them. The book of Nature may have an author, as people believed in the Renaissance. It would be difficult to say for sure. Though it was 46 degrees out, the ambience felt mellow and inviting. One young student rode an electric scooter on her way to the middle school, crossing Maxwell Road and south on N Park. I saw a nice looking young woman walking her dog on the sidewalk… The other day I cut the conversation with my sister a bit short, though I’m not certain why. Maybe I was thinking that it’s impossible for us to go back to the way things were. Most decisions are irrevocable. This is today and not twenty years in the past, and time goes in one direction only. It seems like everyone is sort of wrapped up in himself. Occasionally we need to pause to admire the skyline.
robgradens 