"The color, the grace and levitation, the structural pattern in motion, the quick interplay of live beings, suspended like fitful lightning in a cloud, these things are the play, not words on paper, nor thoughts and ideas of an author, those shabby things snatched off basement counters at Gimbel's."
-Tennessee Williams, from the Afterword to Camino Real
Sunday, February 20, 2011
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Two Old Men Brunch
A Table in the Window The light through the front window fell across our little marble table, cutting through the warm, butter-heavy air at ...
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Here I sit - nursing a scotch, looking out at the pink and orange reflection of the sunset on the mountain—pondering my solitary act of civi... -
“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first t... -
The Parable, Redacted A long time ago, a grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing. A wretched thing, laboring away in the heat, a...