simply walking to the next stop light,
sometimes in the wide, hilly medial strip, which has its own beauty
in the setting sun (look! there's the signature Napa sculpture of a cowboy wrestling with a vat -- how eccentric and serendipidous! -- directly in the crosshairs of the orb),
and its own gravity in the mouldering of a deer adjacent to the indifferent traffic.
Still enough light to capture hills,
dead branches (to be fair, since we had a deceased deer earlier),
and, in the distance, Marin's Mount Tamalpais,
and San Francisco Bay (see? just a little strip there between mountains and foreground...).
In the glow of a Christian Center masquerading as a winery,
reach the traffic light goal.
Back home, post Waiting for Godot, with a few recordings there
(I. Nothing to Be Done - Meghan Dibble, Estragon [below], and Eliza O'Malley, Vladimir) and elsewhere at markalburgerworks.blogspot.com,
and record Part 1, 3, from On the Road
(yes, that's a bassy, Debussy / Gershwin Porgy and Bess "Summertime" whole-tone, surreal GarageBand-beat trope on the Gillespie-Parker Shaw'Nuff)
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and, appropriately enough, Empedocles Was Wrong, from Twelve Preludes and Fugues ("Topical"),
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with its elliptical (and instrumentally unperformed) Aristotelian line (as opposed to Platonic or Socratic, seemingly implied by David's image above):
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"Empedocles was wrong
Light does not travel."
What was he thinking? No idea, but, for now, thinking that there's nothing to do but end.