The other night I was waiting to catch a bus on Market Street. As the bus pulled up, a boxy orange streetcar pulled up behind it.
Wooden benches! Beautiful lacquered wood, wood trim between the windows ...
Instructions in Italian on plaques affixes to the walls ...
I'm always in the middle of half a dozen books. One of the ones I'm reading at the moment is The World Rushed In, which I picked up at a garage sale for a buck.
(Garage sales and library sales have ruined me for regular book-buying. If it costs more than a dollar, I can rarely bring myself to buy it.)
When I picked it up, I thought it was a basic historical account of the Gold Rush. It turns out to be a much more interesting thing: one man's Gold Rush diary, supplemented with excerpts from other Gold Rush diaries.
"Home is where one starts from."
-- T.S. Eliot
I've been wanting a place for my thoughts, reactions to the books I'm reading, and especially a place to record all those things that delight me.
Now, I have a place.