Jeffrey Shell, Sunday, 30 May 2004

Overlooking the valley from an overpriced monument.

Benotz and I stood on the stairs near the top of the mountain monument, a spiraling concrete spire on the far west side of the city. The desert sun was bright; even with sunglasses the city was hard to see in the glare. I looked at the van and the tiny trailer behind it, packed with assorted personal goods. The move seemed silly. I was giving up a good, albeit small, apartment in the heart of the city with a terrific view, and for what? A little more space?

I supposed another benefit (and reason) might be the escape of memory. But I was about to plant myself near the northernmost end of a road that intersected with so much of my personal history. So many girls, book stores, and coffee shops, ran along that line. There was no escape.

The move now could only be chalked up to vicious whim. I wondered if I could still call “Abort!”

This is Spire, © Sunday, 30 May 2004. It is part of Perfect and Unbelievable Hearsay, which is part of euc.cx/ddec.

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