Thursday, March 20, 2008

Spadina streetcar, scanning and laughing.

Caucasian woman, mid 30s, wearing glasses, gray hat, black and white checkered coat, Sorel Caribou winter boots, and carrying a lululemon bag and red knapsack.

Wild Ducks Flying Backward, Tom Robbins (Bantam)

Page 115:

Radical problems call for radical solutions. Conventional politicians are too thickheaded to conceive of radical solutions and too fainthearted to implement them if they could...
She was surprised to see him walking alone in the city. He was taller than she'd expected and on foot. She'd only ever seen him pictured on a bike. Even from the waist up, she'd always imagined him sitting on his 12 speed: during a press conference; addressing the House; bounding down the stairs of his three-storey house, braking hard for his aging mother-in-law, pulling his eldest onto the handlebars for a quick spin to the Kim Moon Bakery, a bag of red bean buns a late morning snack. He passed her, chin straight, eyes forward, his Olympian beret too snug for his head, a gift, she thought, perhaps from the medalist. She watched his heels roll off the pavement and up onto the sidewalk, readying his outstretched hand to greet the man who sells the custom fedoras from a wheelchair in his shop's doorway. Then he disappeared down a side street, his shoelaces tripping under rubber soles.


See you Tuesday!

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