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�� lucien freud ��

20.X.2003 :::: 19.20

It was maybe today the last gorgeous day of the year & I spent big chunks of it waiting outside for things like buses to show up. Outside the clinic I stood listening to Beautiful Rat Sunset & sort of watching, in a sidelong way, this boy also waiting for the bus. He had a long scar on his outer arm from right next to the wrist all the way up the arm, disappearing under the sleeve. He also had what looked like a section of a sort-of hewn tree trunk (pine?) & a library book of Lucien Freud paintings. I sidelongingly watched him sit on the ground with his book stacked on top of his tree drumming on the book. Making nice time to the Mountain Goats come to think of it, & to the still-smoldering cigarette that yet a third party tried to throw into the street but which landed & remained smoldering in the crack between sidewalk & curb.

I don't know how you can keep nice time to smoldering.

The boy, he was so fair I thought if I leant down low enough I might be able to see the sun shining right through him. He stood dangerously next to me on the bus came, after it came & we boarded it. He got off at the museum.

I do like me some Lucien Freud paintings.

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