2005-06-11 | 6:24 p.m.

I hear the horn of a ship stabbing south, sailing steady. from my room on the 18th floor I see all of the buildings, heaps of fragile glass and sleek steal, a gentle city. the netted velvet of the lush trees that peak upward. vancouver is beautiful. 'dimebags, dimebags,' a man whispered in my ear last night, and I bought one. I bought two. tomorrow I'm going whale watching, but perhaps the whales will watch me; I'll take pictures soaked with spray.

jusqu'� la fin

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