While entertaining Devra last night with dinner and a screening of the lush, impenetrable Peter Greenaway masterpiece Prospero's Books (long out of print and never available on dvd- where's the justice?) it was noted that the year of Devra's birth (in Israel, no less) was the year the wife spent in Italy.
It's strange enough to consider a world without my niece, who's only 4 years old.
How much odder to live half a life in a universe without Devra.
With the passage of time thus imprinted, I urge anyone in the area to stop by the store today, where I am at perhaps the height of my late life appeal, bedecked in a new rose linen shirt, hipsterati jeans & euro-sandals.
Polyester cardigans, tan slacks & orthopedic boots are just around the corner, so get and eyeful of this while it lasts!
/edit
visitors so far:
Burl and Fiend
Fiend was more interested in dusting the shelves than my sartorial splendor, but Burl noted my stylish shirt without prompting.
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