Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Wherever we land, we will probably not have a view of this harbor.
I have loved lying sometimes on the silvertop, flat, under the big New York sky. And when I sit up, or look out, this water is in the west. This water. Loved by poets. There is something of the crossing of the elephants about it. The way the water traffic moves, as if nothing else had ever existed.
We have six weeks left on our lease, and may move before then - limbo settles somewhere above us.