The traffic coming back is stoppped- it takes a long time to get anywhere, anymore. I put on Reich's "Music for 18 Musicians" and start to dream.
I recall a woman I dated right after my divorce. When I met her I was struck by how nice she smelled. She smelled like Niagra Spray Starch and Obsession. She had kids. She bought me a ridiculous sweater. I felt like I had to wear it. It was the beginning of the end. I fucked that one up.
The lesson: "In Frustration I Hear Singing." (-Hendrix)