It was cold again today holding the sign. I thought of the same-every-day warm breakfast I'd make when I got back to my apartment. But mostly the cold was on my mind. Among the cold things that came to mind standing there I thought of Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard, a book that means so much to me --I've read it three times--that one of the passwords I use incorporates the title.
When I walk from the subway to my building after I've held the sign, I stop at the bodega to get a New York Times and a banana and an orange. I do it every day. The young woman with a wide face and an easy humorous smile who often works behind the counter and takes my money, $4.75, is from Tibet. She was there today.
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