March 8, 2016

                            

Bright morning over the wet roof that is the view outside my window. But I must assume, from the testimony of days, that it is cold as well.

                            

Sam left late afternoon. We hit the Amsterdam Museum and the dungeon as a farewell. I had the evening to wander about in the accustomed way, noting, in contrast to being with him, how I am like a forest cat, watchful, camouflaged, attentive, running in my head a commentary that might lead to revelation, or to poetry. I want him back, but at least I knew what to do without him.  Beer in various places overlooking the happy street.