Encounters
''peal'' ▫ᴱᴺ｜encounter｜ENC｜20260817190946-24-•
Nor was that all. We usually stayed at Sara until the end of September—it was a peaceful, pretty time, as warm as summer. But in ’93 we’d left with August only a week gone. I knew, because I could remember Johanna going to New York with me later that month, some kind of publishing deal and the usual attendant publicity crap. It had been dog-hot in Manhattan, the hydrants spraying in the East Village and the uptown streets sizzling. On one night of that trip we’d seen The Phantom of the Opera. Near the end Jo had leaned over to me and whispered, “Oh fuck! The Phantom is snivelling again!” I had spent the rest of the show trying to keep from bursting into wild peals of laughter. Jo could be evil that way.
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@Bag of Bones ▫𓂃
(echo:: @ ⌗)