NEVER
The most frugal man ever was eating the air - he
said he never pays for anything. The tablecloth some
waiter held had blown away, and was racing down the
street. The approaching storm was nearing an intensity
I couldn't even want to think about : bent limbs and
snapped branches, furious spouts in the now-driving
rain. Like medieval ideas left over from some school
of monks and supplicators, the glass had just broken
in the entryway window - shards everywhere, a piece
of something sticking through the awning as well. It
seemed as if - in the windswept fury of the moment -
the storm was telling stories without end, tales which
never tied up any endings. It was all over and all
like that now : a fury of Life, in a drum-roll anew.
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