Pool_2

Anyway, air is inspiration. Gut is augury. And heart? Mmmm. Possibility? And that includes danger. So, tickets - well, flyers- to a dance, in fact a peace rally with music, were to be had and he had them. "Tonight!", he affirmed in a backstep, giving her the space she needed for her fears, but beaming as he left. He floated her a kiss and eased away on a breeze of fancy that was shaping up to become a typhoon. A radio, somewhere down the block, was playing I Want to Hold Your Hand. It must have been turned up quite loud, as it penetrated closed windows. This newest cultural import, would local musicians even know it yet? Culture was being crossed in so many ways. Barriers were falling. Surely, change, in the air, carried from afar. Heart said yes but gut said no. Given the choice, always listen to your gut. Winds of time are always blowing. This place was directly down wind of ignorance and hate. Houses flaunted the same shut up windows of a half century ago. Garrison windows framed curtains not much different from those of the last six generations. Old habits, old curtains pulled an inch or so, as they might have been for decades, all along the street, in observance of intrusion. The youngster's presence was more than noted. Some change in the air! Plague had come to this community.