January 12, 2021:
With a wild howl flame storms the hillside like armies rushing on battlements. Faster than a human could run, uphill, carrying with it the taste of dust and sage. Until the firebreak — ice plant — where it halts with a down-sliding wheezing whine of disappointment. The buildings had been just in reach.
On the garage rooftops. No particular reason, except the F-14s. Apart from war and death and empire they look like so much fun.
When his father died my arm was in a cast. I struggled to sign a card.