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#(57) THE CARPET CENTER:
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A scattering of sensations give me a feeling of delicious, gentle melancholy. A nostalgia for things that never were. A feeling of mystery and silence. It makes me glad to be by myself. I don't know how to describe it except by enumerating some of the things that create it: Crisp blue autumn skies marbled with ragged grey clouds, yellow leaves drifting, flocks of birds going away to where birds go when they go away. The smell of dust on window panes. A truck far away, late at night, going through the gears. Old abandoned machinery, out in the wild and weather. The smell of damp basements. The vanilla smell of old paperbacks. Reading alone in a hot summer attic. The sky reflected in spring puddles. Dim-lit places full of interesting old junk. The smell of dirt right after the first rain. Quietly reading as others sleep, the only sound among the soft breath of loved ones the deliberate, heavy ticking of a mantle clock. |