||[Aug. 28th, 2006|11:15 am]
Admirers of Ann-Marie MacDonald
The sky was grey, and so were the buildings. When the book signing was over, we went gliding down the street, five feet above the pavement. There's something about the way Ann-Marie MacDonald looks at you; it leaves an imprint on the retinas. We basked in it.
And then we saw her again -- a fixed smile on a poster, attached with scotch tape to the side of a building. "Keep watch," I said, and I detached it, folded the edges of the tape. Quick as the sparkle in her eyes, we were walking again.
It wasn't stealing. Not really. We saved that poster from the dumpster, where it would have landed in only a few hours, when the crowds would be dispersed and only memory would remain.