October 5, 2005:
Musty, moldy smell: a new place.
Slanted ceiling. Flower pattern drapes. Quiet, quiet, quiet: no cars, no sirens, no seashore in the far distance, nothing, only the strange foreign whisper of wind through prairie wheat.
In your nostrils, like a memory: dry brush; outhouse; dog fur.
On the road in from town, he stopped to kill a snake with a shovel.
Hibiscus, tiare, the fine faded tang of old cat urine.