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Showing posts from December, 2016

Well red!

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Mars hung over the Crestwood shopping centre tonight. The pic doesn't capture the red tinge.



To the naked eye, the red was there.  And the app confirmed it.


                                     And then I started to see red everywhere: the stop sign,



                                                            The little red battery light,



                                                                   The stop light,



                                                                  The taillights,



                                                           The Christmas light, and,



                                                         At home, the vino tinto!


Leonard Cohen in Mérida

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Oh, so long, Marianne
It's time that we began
To laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it
All again. Sitting in Santa Lucia park in Mérida last night I heard that chorus again, and it hit me new. Maybe it was being in Mérida for the first time, or at Noche Blanca, or, maybe, it was the novelty of +24 on December 10 with a beguiling espresso-mezcal potion in the books. But the passageways were open. For smells and sounds and sights and breezes—and poetry.

The Cohen tribute was offered by three players on bass, keyboard, and drums, joined by a kind of beatnik cantor. An enormous tree dripped its leaves over the stage. They sang Marianne.

Maybe the bittersweet rhythm of life (farewell and starting over) came through more clearly on that, the last evening of our holiday in a foreign country. I saw some things that I will try to use to make my life better when I re-attach myself to the machinery of the clock back home. There's the rhythm: a so long at the start of the chorus and a…