Blackout

Yesterday at 4.11 or thereabouts the power went out. Looking across the street we could see people in office buildings looking back at us, milling about, or staring at their computer screens. Buildings soon emptied into the streets as we discovered power had gone out all around the city. Last night it was peaceful. A camraderie had built up from the shared experience as people ate on sidewalks by candlelight, the city not as dark as one might expect. After dinner I climbed up onto the roof to look at the stars and the shadow of the city. The waxing moon rose orange on the horizon. Guillamette wrote a story by candlelight, longhand with pen and paper. And then sent it in by carrier pigeon, "the modem of the poor," as she calls it. If you can read French, you can find it here.