8 August 2005

Afternoon Heliograph

I’m sitting in my office, too tired to get up and do something productive like sort that growing stack of papers in the kitchen, and I’m idly looking out my narrow window at the beauty of the houses rising up the hill. The top of the hill is obscured by a thin layer of incoming fog, but since the fog’s not thick, one flat side of the cap of a tall smokestack on a roof a few blocks away is periodically catching the sun as the stack flexes in the wind.

It signals me in a code I don’t understand.

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