times in our lives that are like that liminal space....you take a cold stick of butter out of the fridge, but it's not clarify'd yet.
September 11th had just happened.
"I hadn't thought about that in years," a man said of circuses.
"I don't like that theme," a woman declared.
Some hung in there through mostly quiet working to brainstorm something. "It shouldn't be just anything," an advisor cautioned.
In the City people were waves of wearing black. Subways streamed with us. Exchanging tidbits of seriousness. Pearls on a string of wisdom with feelings of imminent. With images, sounds, smells still fresh hoping for the change to resettle us into complacency was slippery like wanting to sew but only having a piece of silk.
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