#12: Pavlov and dirty streets
When the song Porcelain by Moby plays, I write.
It’s Pavlovian at this point. I’ve done daily blogging for so many years and written to the same playlist in the same order. When the song begins, my fingers just start typing and stuff flows. I almost never know what it will be ahead of time.
It’s a lovely rainy Friday morning in Charleston. I’m alone in th…