Clio and I were looking forward to spring.
And for a few hours, it seemed to arrive.
I found myself getting aggravated at Spelling Bee for not accepting my great words.
I went to the opera.
And thought about the many performances I had seen over the years.
And how I had changed and not changed.
In the fog, we were all ghosts.
I flew to Pittsburgh, where there is a new terminal.
I was perplexed by the stone furniture at the curb. The benches were okay, but the coffee tables?
Who thought this was a good idea?
I dreamed of being back in bed with Clio.
