January 6th, 2020



.. just another Nu.Year’s Dream - set in th’ hundred acre wood - where a compound is set up under the non.rule, un-ownership of the former Helen Castros. either she or I was late to the appointment and - as it turned out - she had to leave early for another situation at a remote location (perhaps something in the City). following a rushed tea, she handed me a worn an’ damaged paperback - probably an edition of the Sawāneḥ - but I handed it back on account I didn’t wish to become the final cause of its disintegration :

“suit yourself.”
“it has - you must admit - seen better days / but this has been .. instructive session. I’ll repay you somehow, certainly.”
“you shouldn’t, you know.”
“shouldn’t I at least try to fulfill my Obligations?”
“No. .. for you it is an occasion for profligacy, for thumb-twiddling. for you it is to-no-purpose.”

.. and by that point she’d changed into a dress colored beige, bone, and pearl - taken in on account it was a relic from High School days - and passed thoo doors and down roads.
Grace Ella Hammond