Journal

Walt keeps singing

In my dream I’m walking with my love S. and we meet in Leo D. in the street. It is night, in Portland; he informs us of an event. It isn’t exactly a production, but all manner of artists and actors are there. He leads us toward a warehouse building; through a momentarily open door I can see Alex R. reclined, but attentive, in an armchair. The closed door that we reach has a square translucent window, slightly amber-orange with almost-a-letter formed from strips of tape – perhaps an H, or a T. Leo opens and we enter, and the […]