at a quarter of a century


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behind the aspidistra, some defiance at the world........i had established my "commune" of friends who hung out at my posh little house in Garden Hills........my generous patron, Alma Wells, had just died of cancer, the house had been offered to me on the cheapside, by her widower, Bert, but i had no money......none......an acquaintance, Keith Rann, had just stolen all my savings, the stereo, my camera and my favorite pigskin Cassini leather jacket......a leak had begun in the roof, and it was time to exit this scenerio and move into the Unknown.......

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