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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


12.10.04, friday morning

Last night an impenetrable fog crept into west Oakland, cloaking factories and cranes and pedestrians; the Port had disappeared.

When I woke up, it was still wrapped around my city. Within this pearl gray cocoon, every driver must slow, slow down; you never know what might come out in front of you. Some didn't; I guess it was that important.

Lights trembled in the gray vapor, crawling in barely legible lines, slowly but surely approaching their destinations. It is an apt metaphor for this month, my pensive brunette December.

. . .


Recycle, donate, reconsider, tie up loose ends of 2004, of all the other years you have tucked away in a box or under the bed. Gift. Write thank you cards and love you cards. Accept each future moment like a gift, however strange or unfortunate.





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