There are things I love about Boston.
1. On my daily sojourn into work, I step carefully over innumerable dykes of subliminating ice that have poured into the roads from yards and basements. As the days pass, the floes slowly recede into the freezing air, leaving behind oracles of salt and rime on the macadam.
2. Someone is playing a saw in the Harvard T, and I am on the wrong platform. I look around and see another man and woman, their eyes alight, as she looks back, smiles and asks "Is that a saw?" I call out to get the attention of the player and there is no answer but the continuing lift of eerie sound, moving and trembling. We three strangers stand there, delighted, and as our train comes into the station, we run down the ramp to catch a glimpse of the saw-player on the lower platform... but all we see are feet.
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