Because it was a swirl, I am only aware of clapboard & bricks & vines & trees & wheels. Which way is south & how far is east?
Portland is a place of lines & the bones of a working class, industrial past that ends a little more everyday.
The stores are full of other people's stories- plaid & nylon & mothballs. Industry is a creaking rocking chair, economy of antique scales. Coffee comes with it all. Beer to follow.
- small thoughts on a late plane back to SFO. More coherent writing to follow.