a co-worker offered to drive me home; she insisted it could rain late today. yet i walked home and by the time i fished out my keys, i was drenched. i felt accomplished opening my door.
for a while now, i have been looking at pictures with the most careful of intent. yet, i still could not read them well. what i could now discern is that with the masters, every color, every line, was always a choice.
life just happens to me. the soaking i got was one rare victory.
“…the air was full of murmurous summer scents and a brave breeze sang like a bugle from a sky liberally studded with stars.”
a master of prose, p.g.wodehouse, surely was describing this, my one triumphant summer evening.