_ Sunshine reminds me of the sea; it reminds me of lifeguard chairs.
_ Le cote sauvage - the savage coast.
_ You think I don't know French? Is that what you think? I can sing all seventeen verses of 'Albinos by Moonlight', in French, with a mouthful of breadcrumbs.
_ I wasn't insinuating that you didn't know French, I was merely talking to hear myself speak; to send a whispered greeting to the stillness.
_ Garson! Red wine, any color! And some stale bread, ci vous plait.
_ Sauve qui peut - let him save himself who can.
_ I know what it means.
_ Whispering...
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... Such a day! Such a beautiful, warm, sunny April day! Was winter ever here? I look around...so beautiful. I venture back inside in order to get the biggest pot I have in my kitchen and I bring it out into the glorious light. It fills with the sights and sounds, with incense from the flowers, barely containing themselves on such a day. The pot fills with sunlight... To the brim, Garson! Let the drops fall where they may... I cover the now full pot and bring it in.
As the day ends, as all days do, I sit alone in the dark and remember the pot. I retrieve and remove the lid. The first few drops of what would turn out to be a long night's rain pelt against the windows. It is dark.
.... I grew up as a Catholic. In economic terms that is the same as starting out a million dollars in the hole. There was a priest in our parish, in upper Manhattan, who hailed from Brooklyn. He'd mumbo-jumbo on and on, and then he look up, at no one in particular, and say.
" Dank God fuh Latin woids."
I think the man was insane.
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