#96

Oh, those free spirits. Square with his hand to the sun. Sarah with eyes and ears for Andy. Today, the bleak clouds give way to winter light. The wind draws a stiff line on maps pinned down. I've purchased olive oil, pre-made turkey meatballs. I've strayed towards the frames of cafe windows. No: it's the only word with meaning.

Peaks and valleys form the story's grand geography. Travaille. The climactic scene of Christ on cross, the brown horizon mammoth underneath. It's Circe's chapter, every one. Or every word that's Stephen's secret. Even, in his rain-smirched trousers, Adrian has his route to follow. Slim fingers struggling with the keys. Silence beside the practice-room door.

"We absolutely refuse disciples." A joke between the Esses. We want youth. All that the 21st century remembers.