ruminative forms as to have less effect on his mood and ambition than a lite beer. He saw in Fiona another culture with deeper roots. He let it come to him. If it did, he was unintimidated. If not, the point was moot. He liked , in the summer and fall, though his sense of home now was movement. Saddle up. A season or two suffices. In whither thou goest he was most touched by goest. Gettin a mite tired of Dave, anyway. A nice kid, smart, able, and willing to hold down his Yankee nerves. Stoic within his means. Rafe had been pleased as always to find he could really talk to Dave--unusual with this generation--but it was something he found with a number of people. Creepy kid. Rafe was moved, but.... One thing movies lack is intermissions--supplied by breaks not so much commercial as natural, bespoke. Fiona had a nice place back east and he had some business with TV scripts at a NY studio. He might look like a hick to her there, but he knew when and how to tone down the accent. Owned some Savile Row suits. Knew the restaurants and galleries. Besides, movement. Not frenetic but stately, well organized. Travel. Get her away from the kids. He sensed she'd enjoy it, especially on his responsibility. At his age he wasn't looking for a good mother for his children--never had been, which might've been a mistake--and who was to say she hadn't been? He hadn't done well in that department himself, point of fact, and this did not set him apart from folkways. Only the insecure boonies, undeterred by evidence, believe in a uniform standard, a platonic scale of virtue applicable from situation to situation, culture to culture, person to person, movie to movie. There may be only one reality, but there are many visions. And if there be a soul, it's no essence, but as mutable as any other well written character. Give the Old Boy credit.
ruminative forms as to have less effect on his mood and ambition than a lite beer. He saw in Fiona another culture with deeper roots. He let it come to him. If it did, he was unintimidated. If not, the point was moot. He liked , in the summer and fall, though his sense of home now was movement. Saddle up. A season or two suffices. In whither thou goest he was most touched by goest. Gettin a mite tired of Dave, anyway. A nice kid, smart, able, and willing to hold down his Yankee nerves. Stoic within his means. Rafe had been pleased as always to find he could really talk to Dave--unusual with this generation--but it was something he found with a number of people. Creepy kid. Rafe was moved, but.... One thing movies lack is intermissions--supplied by breaks not so much commercial as natural, bespoke. Fiona had a nice place back east and he had some business with TV scripts at a NY studio. He might look like a hick to her there, but he knew when and how to tone down the accent. Owned some Savile Row suits. Knew the restaurants and galleries. Besides, movement. Not frenetic but stately, well organized. Travel. Get her away from the kids. He sensed she'd enjoy it, especially on his responsibility. At his age he wasn't looking for a good mother for his children--never had been, which might've been a mistake--and who was to say she hadn't been? He hadn't done well in that department himself, point of fact, and this did not set him apart from folkways. Only the insecure boonies, undeterred by evidence, believe in a uniform standard, a platonic scale of virtue applicable from situation to situation, culture to culture, person to person, movie to movie. There may be only one reality, but there are many visions. And if there be a soul, it's no essence, but as mutable as any other well written character. Give the Old Boy credit.
final_triage.docx