Orchid Hunting Is A Mortal Occupation.

The First Thing I Think About When I Wake Up Most Mornings Is The Fact That I'm Tired. I Have Been Tired For Decades. I Am Tired In The Morning And I Am Tired While Becalmed In The Slough Of The Afternoon, And I Am Tired In The Evening, Except Right When I Try To Go To Sleep.

When We Stopped To Rest And Tony Tried To Figure Out What Was Wrong With His Compass, I Asked Him What He Thought It Was About Orchids That Seduced Humans So Completely That They Were Compelled To Steal Them And Worship Them And Try To Breed New And Specific Kinds Of Them And Then Be Willing To Wait For Nearly A Decade For One Of Them To Flower.

When I Still Lived In Manhattan, People-watching Was My Hobby, And I Spent Many Sunday Afternoons Eating Up The Scene From A Window Seat At A Starbucks On Broadway.

'brave' Is One Of Those Words That Has Been Bleached Of Most Of Its Meaning These Days, Thanks To Far Too Many Appearances In The Glaring Light Of Ad Slogans And Corporate Public Relations. I Never Thought About Anything As Brave Anymore; It Just Seemed Like A Flabby, Glib Cliche.

A Snow Day Literally And Figuratively Falls From The Sky, Unbidden, And Seems Like A Thing Of Wonder.