Don’t expect much.  Look at the cement sidewalk.  Keep your eyes on that.  When you forget, and your glance catches the big paper moon rising behind the telephone lines at the playground, ignore the sense of wonder stirring under your ribs.  Late November, when the leaves whip around the street, and the shagginess of the branches throughout the neighborhood speaks of some kind of important process that is going on, do not try to name that process.

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