In loving, living memory, John Melançon 1928 – 2007
Snow in October, I love it. Giant flakes, snowball sized, and accumulation on the grass.
Piles of furniture-sized items outside of some houses, especially the big houses at the end of Fisher street, as I walked Zelda really for the first time since return from Europe. Must be a pick-up day coming. So much stuff, so much waste.
There was a television being thrown out larger than any we've ever owned.
When every other possibility has been eliminated, whatever remains, however improbably, must be the truth:
The world is utterly insane.