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  • Some thing is wrong inside my throat. The phone is
    ringing off the hook. After seventeen consecutive
    hang ups I answer. It's an avalanche. It wants to
    know where I've been, why I haven't picked up. I
    explain I'm not feeling well, there's some complaint
    in my throat. Its roar dampens and i hear it
    softening up a bit. Well, I didn't know it says, are
    we still going out later. Idunno, my throat is bad
    and I need to get ready for a business meeting in the
    morning. Come on it says harmlessly, I could drag you
    to the harbor and we could sit with sailors, and the
    moon. I have no choice I know, looking outside at the
    sunless afternoon. I put on a sweater with blue
    stripes and look at my nonchalant reflection. It is
    not evening yet but the moon is overhead, watching. I
    can tell the moon is becoming embarrassed. I invite
    the avalanche in but it says I'd rather wait outside.
    Alright then, let me get my coat.

    It's only Tuesday evening but the scene at the
    harborside is fantastic. Three ships have come in
    directly from Venice and sailors are unloading
    pyramids from them, dressed in white shirts and black
    pants. The avalanche is thirsty and orders us each a
    drink, old fashioneds, first taking off its hat and
    setting it beside our table. Across the way a dark
    suited figure is standing, staring at us. I rub my
    eyes and realize it's the moon. Excusing myself, I
    make my way through some sailors and stand next to
    him. Moon, what are you doing here, I ask, ecstatic.
    He motions for us to move outside and we make for the
    doorway. A tall sailor is blocking the entrance with
    a substantial box of Venetian glasses. His hands are
    dusty and strong.

    Outside I can see the moon is already getting ready
    to depart. Wait, I say, I thought you were ready for
    some conversation. Yes but I need to be getting on to
    the mountains he replies. But first I ask is there
    anything you can make of this unnecessary journey. It
    is too late though and he is already gone. I walk
    back inside and press my lips to my glass,
    concentrating on an ice cube while the avalanche is
    speaking. We also will be going to the mountains very
    soon he says looking outside through a dirty
    windowpane. An enormous ship coming in is dominating
    the entire harbor.

    We have some more drinks and then I leave for home.
    The avalanche asks do you need a ride, but I tell it
    next time. My lips are already turned blue and are
    alluring as the sea.
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