January 19, 2012

Disintegrating crescent of moon. The car looks like it had been shot with diamonds. On the subject of the car, last night after choir one of my choir mates bashed–lightly–into the back of it. It may have been inadvertent, but it didn’t look like it, as she eased forward, stopped, eased forward again until they bumped. She was trying to get out of her parking space, yes, but she had about a hundred yards to back up in. No damage; said nothing.

The man making breakfast at church on Sunday stays I my mind. I have always admired his lively family and his own personal beauty. He looked so happy making the community breakfast, grinning from ear to ear. He was in a horrible accident a few days ago, with a torn aorta and multiple fractures. If I were a medieval poet I would have a field day on the subject of mutability.