Inside, the hiss of the air was on, circulating something warm through the building. Down the street he could see a few people in other offices: standing at their windows, walking by. Each building housing its own season, opposite to the one outside. Each person somewhere else, or in another time.Bringing to mind last lines from John Ashbury in the fourth (but not last) of his "French Poems" in The Double Dream of Spring.
And finally and above all the great urban centers, withAnd be found again by the tenuous link of words.
Their office buildings and populations, at the center of which
We live our lives, made up of a great quantity of isolated instants
So as to be lost at the heart of a multitude of things.
And so for day 356
05.12.2007