Let Us Start at the Beginning

let us begin with the beginning, a time before everything that is happening right now started. Back to the start of the day, the moments before dawn, before the alarm, before the first birds of the morning began to call out to one another.

But what can we start with then, where there is nothing there but the slumber, the darkness the little sleep.

An imaginative evening in Paris by the Fountain De Medici surrounded by primitive statues and cobblestone streets.

Shall we start with a symphony, a dance, a play, mandolin music sometimes fill your room, when you sketch out the pictures you create.

But even then where do we go from here. The evening in Paris was just an imagination, the aroma of coffee, cool of the breeze through the windows, the aroma of lavender and rosemary filling your nostrils. The television actress you read about in the paper is dead. And you know for certain she had never been to the city of lights, even as you look out at the Japanese lanterns on your patio.

Amber is a sort of darkness in your light. You always spill the wine on your tablecloths, kick your shoes off on the couch. Sip some more wine, dear dear spirit, swallow some hot coffee, drive your shiny oleander vehicle into chalices of mud.