Afraid I'm still in Bombay (Mumbai). The feeling of being inside that book has lasted longer than that of any book I've read except the Kipling stories. This picture was made inside a Mumbai bar; reminds me of Leopold's, where Lin, Karla, Didier, Prabu, Vikram and others congregated.
The poetry reading Monday night was really good. Joe and Gail were there, and Gail looked better than since long before she started her chemo treatments. She's all better now. Joe read a beautiful sonnet, but it was flawed in the last lines--he knew this, but he'll work it out. Cookie didn't come, wasn't feeling well; I worry about her. Sherry, Frank, Joan and Ruby (forgot Ruby's last name) were all looking good. Boy, that Sherry carries a big stick--brave and resourceful lady.
I'm reading Richmond Lattimore's translation of The Four Gospels and the Revelation (that's the title). Very good reading, in everyday English.
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