Labels:text | screenshot | font OCR: his impulsive lens. They live life on a plane parallel with the real, whatever that is. They sit or stand, eat, drink, chatter, and vamp a little or a lot in an atmosphere that is humid with funny tenderness. It's as if being uninteresting were an old trick of theirs that they have forgotten. Pesky charisma clings to them like static-electrified lint. I choose to interpret this as a definitive effect of community, by which people start mean- ing things to each other and then can't easily stop. 5. Finally, my thoughts migrate back upriver to love, whence flows Sullivan's enterprise. A benediction of Venus falls across these images, be it only faintly and from afar. It speaks in tones that remind me of the last stanza of Auden's "Lullaby": Beauty, midnight, vision dies: Let the winds of dawn ...
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