i talk to in the center of his circle. we talk about the east indies and how they turned into this really important place. we like the work of durell stone. it is good work. it feels like a well tailored white dress. no need to open it up. it is a beautiful palace just the way it is. especially the snowy northern face. i strech from here to greenwich village. pick up a drink at the hudson hotel. you know what, things are not quite as bad as they seem. close the windows, open an eye. write down some numbers and meditate about their origin. think about the sun how it was put into the center of things for a while, how we all floated in ether, how we all know nothing and believe to know it all, how we dig out the dead, unharmed for thousands of years and put them into freshly built museums. Into refrigerated chambers.
i shrink back to the size of a single point and return to here. right here, right now. just for this tiny little moment. less than a blink of an eye.
