November 04, 2011

Why I was smiling when I got home

Creole Choir of Cuba.

On the train I think about performance & ritual.

10.20pm. No car in the parking lot. Car stolen?

Run into V & he is kindness personified & we talk about Buddhist chants until the police officer arrives & I call up the wrong Ali & we laugh hysterically because it's been a night of vanishments & strangers a surreal night & because there's a lesson or a gift somewhere in having your car stolen.