On a cold Paris winter day, as the ice thickens on Canal Saint Martin, the writer takes off his gloves to work.
* * *
I usually count on the neighbors to help with the heating just as they count on me. But the apartment is colder this winter because the apartment below is empty.
I’ve just caulked the windows in my living room/office so that I don’t have to type with gloves on.
With gloves that sentence reads as follows:
IO ujuts cqgulKEFD TQEHW qioasdddnows ioh ny sdl;aingvv toomoffaciw asto thath ia asdotnta; ahvae to aryttg wqthh fpobes pon,.
Actually, I sort of like the like the “fpobes pon” at the end, got nice rhythm to it.
Meanwhile, the ice thickens on Canal Saint-Martin,
and city works don their gloves to put up a sign warning us from trying to walk on it.
(c) 2009, Gary Lee Kraut