MISTY BLUE

Entering Central Park.

Very odd taxi driver. I knew I could beat her across the intersection.

If anyone knows the mechanism, please share it with me, okay? Why would the glimpse of the George Washington Bridge in the mist make me cry, and this time, it was not just started to tears, there were drops running down the face.

After three (fun) nights and days in Queens and Manhattan, I got up this morning to go to therapy and then head upstate again. It has been foggy in the mornings for the last week or so, and this morning was no exception. Except that I was driving up the West Side Highway and Henry Hudson Parkway. Although I have driven that road many many times, I had never seen it the fog, with only the spiny, spidery-fingered trees, still flecked here and there with autumnal gold in views. New York City was gone, a moistly grey candy cotton backdrop. Modern life drops away except for the bullet you are driving. It was magnificent and I wished I could have filmed it for you. Or even photographed it, but alas, I was in the throes of rapid, forward motion.

And now, after a short session of RT compulsion and some other internet catching up, I am going to retire to cuddle with Cooder and finish The Round House.

Here are some cats I visited with:

(Ms.) Doc. 

Cosmo Grimmelmann-Gikow.