didn't finish the poetry challenge. the Getty event got in the way. (a perfect thing/perfect time).
then, life. ... s'okay.
want to quickly, quickly jot down Tidal Wave Variation 2, 042. This one is INSIDE. That's a first. A giant building, of course, mostly made of glass - at least the walls I can see. Outside a Da Vinci like Italian landscape, roads winding up into the Umbrian distance. In the building: Andrea, Mom and I and maybe others and an ENORmous pushing wave, sloshing in this case (instead of the usual pullback and endless rising and cresting) but as ever, doing whatever it does with spectacular force. We're surviving so far but I see Andrea go towards the glass top side of the building without telling us where she was going. There is some kind of railing there. I see her try a door and it is locked and I realize then that there is NO air in this place and that perhaps worse the environment is toxic. (all this probably related to Japan, I'm sure). I don't want to tell mom that there is no air because she might panic. I try to control my panic. To not breathe. It is a long way to the far door. Andrea is already out now and the wave pulls us up and back to the top, slamming and dragging us against the ceiling.
then I don't know what happens. some dreams about a friend who is redoing his house. his 25 grills and out door movie theater and view out over the bay. and a brand new baby. I seem to want all of these things. Another long bit about Paris. Too much detail for right now. But good living in Paris. It was lovely just to be with Andrea, looking at lace and old books and such. A wrinkle in time, I guess, I guess we survived the wave.
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