I finally had the chance to try out the Euclid Corridor today, riding the #6 to a Flash ActionScript class at the Cole Center for Continuing Education. When I started at the ISC just over a year ago the director emphasized his encouragement for us to take skill-building classes. If there was an award for most classes taken, I’d probably win it. I haven’t quite figured out how the whole Euclid Corridor thing works, but the bus drivers know it, and stepping off a bus right onto the bus platform was much nicer than stepping off a bus into a big puddle of snowmelt, and I only had to walk half a block to get to the Center.
First snowfalls and mornings are hand-in-glove. It was very quiet and dark waiting for the bus, then chattering brightness.
Now all the days and nights of journeying through the forest drew together and were behind Falk. He was not camping: he had come to a place. He need not think at all about the weather, the dark, the stars and beasts and trees. He could sit stretching out his legs to a bright hearth, could eat in company with another, could bathe in front of the fire in a wooden tub of hot water. He did not know which was the greatest pleasure, the warmth of that water washing dirt and weariness away or the warmth that washed his spirit here, the absurd elusive vivid talk of the old man, the miraculous complexity of human conversation after the long silence of the wilderness.
Ursula K. Le Guin — City of Illusions
Time for class.
The way home wasn’t nearly as fun. The #6 doesn’t run westward on Euclid just yet, and the 9X, with its status as an Express, doesn’t stop and runs relatively rarely on Chester, so I had to walk 30 blocks to Public Square, where I was just in time to catch the 23. On the plus side, during the walk I saw a roller-blading Santa Claus wielding a ski pole.