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Posted on 2008.05.16 at 14:26
at midnight, the tang of broken berries, stirred-up gravel, and even a bit of baby shampoo hangs in the air on state street. it smelled like camping, like god behind the ears, like the sweet release of the city. it was quiet. i counted six cars (and one train) that passed during my half-hour shuffle home. and i couldn't help but do a little dance around the bend when the trees parted and the ocean and stars gleamed through. yes, this is the city of shiny things and shiny people. as if everything's polished by something intrinsic and invisible. this is the city where people lean in closely: pedestrians talking to drivers at stoplights, canvassers resting their heads against the co-op, me, over the balcony, peering out to see the herons in the morning. this is god's country. and i've come home.

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