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Sunday, May 19, 2013

Prelude without a fugue by John von Daler

    Jogging past the hotdog vendor at the end
of Frederiksberg Allé I could smell the sausages
grilling even through the closed shutters of his cart.
    The morning felt hot already; he was
probably preparing for the strolling couples who would pass by later. I thought about how I hardly ever eat a hotdog, just rather enjoy the smell of roasting pigmeat. The vendor could charge me merely for the aroma.
    As a matter of fact, I'm big on preludes. The drawn curtain and arrival of the audience often
entertain me more than a play. Orchestras tuning
and practicing frequently please me more than
the following concert.
    My favorite part of my favorite book,
Winesburg, Ohio, is the introduction.
    Now you are probably thinking, what about
that old cliché, foreplay.
    I read the books, heard the concerts and saw the
plays - all with great joy.
    Let it suffice to say that I have several children.

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