>>6048707Nowadays, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. No-wa-days: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Now. Waa. Days. She was Now, plain Now, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Nowa in slacks. She was These Days at school. She was In Our Times on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Nowadays. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Nowadays at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial word or phrase for the present times. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Nowadays was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.
