Found this at the book fair for rs 200. Then had a superb meal at my old friend's restaurant. Things were capped by this:
Remember the old line that told of old things, the way they were. Somehow words fail, but the light returns. The way light steeles into peares or plums. Totally unscripted but the moment known or anticipated.
The cold air lifts, and something else drifts into our lives. There is warmth filtering through the glass, held in the body. The earth becomes gentler by the hour. There is a glint of an opening, like the first word she speaks.
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