'I knew then that if I couldn't be Ernie Hem sitting in trenchcoat
     drinking pernod on the terrace of the Select I wanted to be
     Elliot Whateverhisname penning in the rewrites while gazing
     out over Central Park under the milky light of August.'
     You know, it's only a quick ride on the 4 train to get
     from here to Central Park.  Say the word, and I'll gladly
     trade you a little of this milky light for some
     cool Irish rain, Sqn Ldr Bowman.
     Or, not.  I find this muggy air quite agrees with me.
     That might have something to do with living in this place
     of August-colored dreams.
     
     Cecilia B.
     (for Brooklyn.)
     
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Received on Sat Aug 17 07:24:17 2002
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