7.12

A small, miserable thread through familiar landscapes.

Landscape is a plural, familiar the adjective. It's a family of landscapes. The vaste desertland mentioned in that precious Longfellow-Shakespeare joke.

Matthew, a Bostonian on his way to Bastogne. Wrote me and said,
Hi,
Yes, I am currently in Bastogne and have enjoyed visiting the 101st Airborne Museum and Bastogne Barracks. Tomorrow I will visit Bois Jacques, where you can still see the foxholes the American troops took shelter in during German bombings.

Talk soon
Matt

One step missing to get to Timbuktu. The old ceiling in a newday setting. Last week and/or some week before a female who couldn't see any other story than the one she hadn't survived. It had been completed without her awareness of its fatal ending. That's how most stories end.

Miss Hazy, did she receive the book that I send her a couple of years ago? To my knowledge, as no feet came back on it, she didn't.

I told you. Not one tree in a circumspect distance of thousand of trees. It had gardens of course, and a couple of trees here and there, and somewhere near the remains of the Amazon some brushwood with the size of Green Park maybe, but nothing, hundreds and hundreds miles north of Manaus, nothing compared to the vaste rain forest it once had. As Quammen examined.

Three of them dogs. Three of them dogs.
One of them dogs in a kid limousine. The breed comes with a pink jacket.
It's not three of them dogs, it's four of them dogs.
Four of them dogs. Four of them dogs.
And three of them dogs in the kid limousine.

Goed dat er nog plekken zijn waar je dineren kan zonder dat je dat op voorhand moet laten weten.

De man met 1 hand maakt gebruik van de andere hand, die er niet is, om zichzelf een biertje in te schenken, door wat bleef van z'n rechter onderarm tegen de laterale zijde van het middenrif te drukken, wat hij net zo vlotjes doet alsof hij wel twee handen had.

Sinds 2013 lees ik in Old Masters, de Engelse versie van Alte Meister, van Thomas Bernhard, in de vertaling van Ewald Osers, en dat heb ik nog steeds niet uit, laat staan dat ik het vijf keer na elkaar gelezen of beluisterd had kunnen hebben.

Doctoreren op een platonische coïtus. Het wijnglas, kaarslicht, een boek, de leesbril, een waarneming die begint met en eindigt op rode sokken, het natte wegdek, braakliggend terrein.