squirrel writes nothing.

"so did you write about a squirrel today?" "I would not write about a squirrel really, it would be more as if the squirrel wrote about me." It took one and a half hours to get into the city this morning. the streets were not half bad, there was room enough for many cars with four passengers in them. many people were just walking across the bridge. many with bicycles. It took about three hours to get back to Brooklyn this evening. It was a really great ride. This is a really large city when you think about it. It is even bigger if you don't. a package with photography books arrived today. i can not say what they were because some of them are not for me. the better ones are not for me. i am giving away strange things this season. what did i do before there was itunes? did i let design seduce me in record stores? now i am being seduced by 30 second snippets and glances of memories of songs i used to listen to on a walkman some years ago. okay, maybe more than a decade now. audioscrobble all the way. so what about the squirrel? It had nothing to write about today.