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March 25, 2004
The weather changes so quickly, so subtlety – one moment I am casually mentioning how wonderful it is that spring has finally arrived, that the blue sky and sun are illuminating this cluttered cavern of Sullivan Street where we sit near an open door in a small café; the next I suddenly realize that the world is washed in grey, the sky overcast by a creeping blanket of low-hanging clouds. A table is scraped across the tile so that the door can close, shutting out the world that just a short while ago we longed to invite inside to join us.