Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Rosslyn-tinted glasses

From McPherson Square the rain began slowly to trickle down.  Nostalgia played lurid tricks on my memory as I tried to detect the smell of rosemary on the wet air that once perfumed the Angels.  Alas, all I could detect on this antediluvian air was exhaust.

From Rosslyn, the post-diluvian skies colored the vista in hues of water colors; the National Cathedral towered over the landscape in shades of Monet's Parliament.

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