Saturday, June 23, 2007
Someone is shooting hoops in the courtyard next door. Two or three people, from the sound of it. From where I sit, on the other side of the wall, I cannot see the players, only the ball soaring into the air again and again, awkward with gravity, trying to find the mouth of the basket to succumb to. Like someone fumbling towards speech, trying to put into words the beauty of this summer day.