Working late again - the taxi guys are making a mint out of me and the company getting its ounces of flesh - but not thinking so much of shadows but the lie of night, its radio talk, the song dreaming its dreams, the way that knows itself by the feel of road and, yes, shadow. Travelling in taxis can be a dreaming space, a lot of turning, the route like lines of poetry, rhythms with their own riffs, variations each time, and each drivers' different soundtrack.


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