"[w]hat was any art but ... a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself - life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose." - Willa Cather, Song of the Lark
Friday, July 20, 2007
It was a dark and rainy night...
... in July. In Seattle.
As I walked home from the grocery store, the small indy bookstore a block away from me (where I will pick up my Harry Potter book when they re-open at midnight) already had a line forming outside.
Maybe the rain will keep the crowd relatively small.
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