Saturday, April 9, 2016

Saturday commute cxxvi: Out of the fire

Friends possess great latitude
with me, to inquire in the nos-
iest way, provided they accept
the risk of a querying absorp-
tion of their question. So, it
wasn't so unusual, when a bril-
liant, flaring gem of my exper-
ience lately asked if I'd ever
imagined sharing the remainder
of my life with someone whom I

I was reminded of the boy on a
road in the Pyrénées, not an e-
vent waiting to happen, but an
event reflecting, before one's
eyes. And the copper, hammered
pan approached on the hypothet-
ical, of willingness to commit
to eliciting an omelet.

Rodrigo Penaforte

Dieter Krehbiel, photo
ca 2015

Friday, April 8, 2016

The old shirts

 I put one on, the
 other day, a pin-
 point cotton wov-
 en in Glasgow and
 fashioned by tail-
 ors in New Jersey,
 about this long a-
 go. Of warm-weath-
 er weight, it im-
 parted a sense of
 luxury to the arm
 from decades admir-
 ably withstood, of
 laundries and more
 genial wearing in.

 It's what I'd been
 rusticated to the
 same place for. I
 did not pursue the

 This is for myself.