White Space

...like tracks in the snow of an empty field which the wind blows over, sweeping the pages and blurring the edges of letters, numbers in ledgers...

Winter 1993

...the long wide sigh of the Hungarian plain snuffed out in the snow which whirls against the dirty window of the cold car in which I sit alone.


Last night a terrific thunderstorm rolled into Kabul from over the mountain tops. Dr. Sam and I watched it from the villa patio.