while E. Cross Saltire begins his journey through a more respectable kind of no-man's land than the one i find myself in, i, at the urging of a friend, a Spore City girl named Annie, set out on my own expedition, alone into the city fully intending to be, as she put it, 'more there'. i was astonished by my response to the place.
i walked, for once, without my glasses, or the burden of my laptop, or even a book; there were pens in my pockets, but they are always there, and otherwise i had nothing, in fact, to occupy my mind but where i was.
there was the City.
none of the details were really new to me, and yet there was no denying that they were: the unusually clean atmosphere in the midst of urbania, suddenly more fresh than sterile, with its abundance of foliage, the Hitchcockian mobs of corvines (and other bird families, i'm sure) giving the impression of trees casting their leaves up to punch holes in the thin grey overcast, to reveal an unflappable, shiny blue beyond. the people, oh yes, the people, with all their accents and fragrances and odors and colors and hues and melodies and gaits and rhythms and inertias...
oh, wait, there were The Shins in my ears, of course. that may have had a hand in it all as well. and i did come home from the trip with some amazing 'new' reads.
it could have been perfect, i suppose. but only just.
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