White for Winter

I continue with another list, please note Mr. Eco.

This time I haven't penned it.

[Blue] begins a list....[he] moves on to white. There are seagulls, he says, and terns and storks and cockatoos. There are the walls of this room and the sheets on my bed. There are lilies-of-the-valley, carnations, and the petals of daisies. There is the flag of peace and Chinese death. There is mother's milk and semen. There are my teeth. There are the whites of my eyes. There are white bass and white pines and white ants. There is the President's house and white rot. There are white lies and white heat.

Excerpt from Ghosts by Paul Auster.

Fog

Usually Fall has the fog roll into town but tonight it is the beginning of Spring and its humid blanket has wrapped up the area. Tonight repeats yesterday. I woke up to a fog which did not burn off until late morning, much like San Francisco.

There's almost a full moon tonight, too, for Easter. It's trying to whiten the night sky which is yellow from this foggy paste of a street lamp.