'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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