an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Thursday, October 12, 2006

. . . .

Karen arrives today in an airplane. I'll drive out to Moline to meet her on this blustery pretty day and watch the wind in the clouds and trees on the way. There are shadows of trees everywhere moving on the sides of houses. Wind chimes and leaves. That's the sound.

I'm making mole. My feet are cold.


Cloves and red chilis. Cashews and Spanish peanuts. Chocolate. That's the smell.


Cold sunny wind. Went for a run in the yellow hat and periwinkle fleece and red/orange running shirt and two pairs of black leggings and the soft black cotton gloves. From summer to winter. Wink. Waved at Zali from a distance. He watched me run and didn't recognize me. His hands with coffee and a cigarette.


Returned from the Moline airport without Karen. Stupid O'Hare. Jasper sits in the airport at Oakland and waits to fly towards tomorrow's big day. On the drive back I remembered the last conversation I had in the Moline parking lot. Jake got into the car and told me a long story. I remembered what I said to him later that night. I said I heard you say two things: there is love and there is God. Yes, he said. You heard me. You heard me.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

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what o'clock it is


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