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The silent deep ablaze with fires
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derspatchel and I walked down by the waterfront this evening, with a moon like an illustration from N.C. Wyeth hanging low over the harbor: haze-gold, etched across with cloud-lines in a sky that darkly glowing blue that feels hand-tinted, Jack Cardiff Technicolor in the tropics. I was reminded again how much I miss the sea.We'd run out this afternoon to see Michelangelo at the MFA, an unexpected corridor of Art Nouveau through Soviet propaganda posters (I love the Faust in this one, but I wish I could link the Dada program or some of the German Art Deco) and not as much samurai armor as we wanted, which just means we'll have to go back; meeting up with my parents was slightly flurried, but everyone enjoyed the art and afterward Rob and I successfully walked to Back Bay for an assortment of sodium-replenishing meats and cheeses at the Salty Pig. I mentioned it was hot, right? It was hot. Like, being an extra in Lawrence of Arabia hot, only with no chance of running into Omar Sharif or Peter O'Toole. Even the shade wasn't cool, only less punishing. (I wrote to Rob as I walked from Powderhouse to Davis, "I like this weather if I can spend it submerged in the sea.") Naturally, we then spent the next two hours walking around Boston in a wistful, increasingly fruitless search for dessert, peaking in a negative sort of way when jm Curley turned out to be closed for a private party and the Friendly Toast stops serving at quarter of ten on Sundays. We ended up at J.P. Licks again, ordering more or less our usual. (This month's coconut-milk flavor is chocolate, which I do not like as well as last month's orange or March's lime, but it goes well with caramel.) But we passed through Copley Square before the sun set, when the wind broke in shirt-twisting vortices around Trinity Church, and crossed the Fort Point Channel looking for jellyfish and Atlantic Avenue looking for ghosts, and after dark the seals at the New England Aquarium glimmer through the murky waters, silver bellies gleaming to their audience as they turn sleek as a wrist at the tank's corners and glide down into rock-shadow, dimming into salt night again. We tried to get information on the ferries out to the harbor islands, but if there was a schedule posted anywhere at the visitor pavilion, I think we were supposed to have an app for it.
So, yeah. That needs to happen. And Star Island. And Portland. This summer. We will not go without sea.
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*apologies for lack of comment content if post is functional*
I can see it now!
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Post is functional! I was beginning to worry. I've been able to see it since last night, but you are the first person to comment and even in these waning days of LJ, that's unusual. Grazie.
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...You go places and do things. You know what you need, a millstone. YOU COULD TAKE n FOR A WEEK.
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Thank you.
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All right!