Snow Days I have to say, I’ve never really watched snow falling, It’s as if this particular very late winter afternoon, paper shreds just skydiving right by my window, each alone, in a whirlwind to get to the ground faster, bigger, fatter than all the rest, the objects around me very slowly sinking under this cotton barrage, oh fondant world!March Twenty-First Day of Spring Not knowing what should be expected of me (I am an art-watcher on the west coast, not even a wave-watcher here) so, running for the slopes, for the mountains of water on flat boards, slim and underfoot, is just not my style, those inroads of personal wakes things of non-existence in my world. Look, for me snow is a whole boat load of new sights, posted to my head space, book nook new fallen, newly shaped, here the odd landscape, frozen in mind. It is a blinding. And me a baby Big Foot knee-deep in new memories.
Taxi! Robin, Robin, and Robin went out to forage for their lunch before it got too dark, these three, fat with red vests, pecking, strutting, dapper, this convention of NYC doormen right here on a hill by a lake in a winter of fat flakes.