“ Greenwich Village... the village of low rents and high arts. ”
No friendship is an accident.
~ O. Henry
He had become enveloped in the Indian Summer of the Soul.
I wanted to paint a picture some day that people would stand before and forget that it was made of paint. I wanted it to creep into them like a bar of music and mushroom there like a soft bullet.
And most wonderful of all are words, and how they make friends one with another, being oft associated, until not even obituary notices them do part.
