Wednesday, August 5, 2020

First Avenue

I look down on a castle of brick with an entrance of three arches made of stone; its roof line is a jagged edge, not regal, not even Dutch, but grasping for an old gothic world effect.  It announces itself with a red neon sign: Castle Heights. That sign makes me smile.

Only the second floor has a large bricked-in terrace with chairs and plants. The door to the terrace is open, 
More interesting to me is the closed window with a hospital bed pushed up against it. Pillow and bedding are visible, but I can't see a face. I want to see a face.

This is what I love about living in the city: hints of lives in every window. Life humming all around.



1 comment:

  1. You're back! I'm just finding this today (2/28/22) but I had to go all the way back to where I left off. I have to admit I may have searched the obits a couple of times. I am so glad you and your witty, honest self are back to blogging! I love it! And so does my mom (had to tell everyone, you know). P.S. I went to high school with Sam but didn't really know you or your family back then. Then I was in a ward in SLC with you (the 27th ward, I think--we met in the church by the cemetery).

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