Here is a transcript of a note found attached to some handwritten papers:
“I was walking up Markham to Honest Ed’s when I met a friendly woman who I recognized as living in the area but that I have not seen since. For the following hour or more she held me spellbound as she recited from memory the opening stanzas of the Epic Poem of Markham Street.
"Many gathered or passed by as I listened during a day of thaw in February.
“Despite the visions conjured in my head by her eloquent telling of an epic tale, eventually my old frame became too weary, my feet too cold to continue standing. I nodded at her in silent appreciation as I turned and left the small group.
"As the circulation came back to my legs and my knees loosened I headed slowly home. Though my heart was inspired, the cat insisted on being fed and I made a pot of hot tea. From then on, and for the days to follow, I wrote down all that I could remember. I apologize for my poor script but my hands are frail and fail me these days.
“Looking through the attached notes I know that what I have written is unworthy of the rushing energy the Epic Poem provokes in the listener. I fear my diminishing powers of recollection have coloured what is here. What I cannot recall maybe I have embellished inadvertently in attempts to give continuity. But if I do not write it down it will have been lost forever.”
From the dusty confines of a shuttered attic on a street that gyre’d in sync, is an august tale of harbouring desires. Now, go on and click the link.
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