Errands all day: Robert
Blackburn, Utrecht, the other Utrecht, Talas.
Twelve hours up and down and across the apple which should have been
left alone for at least another two weeks. I was the ghost who says
goodbye and shows up four days later, surprise.
In short order my copper plates turned silver
(turned iron), heavy and and inconveniently big in the subway; when
I left Talas I marched away with the roll of bookcloth over my shoulder
like a flag pole. It was impossible to find vine black ink anywhere.
I cut my hair short, shorter than I'd planned, like a sheep in the spring
which looks funny in its new coat.
