It turned out to be a long morning. TV news flips over every half hour, so it was either watch reruns of what I'd already seen or find another channel... and I was running out of channels. Ten o'clock came and went, 10:30, and still no sounds from upstairs. But I knew she was still there, or at least her car was out front and I doubted she'd walked away. Finally about quarter before eleven I heard stirring, then the shower ran; she was up.I was too edgy to start my warm-up right away. Belatedly I. The former was an excellent player, but he was more of an artist and poet. While practiced, the tall Russian-born player recited a sonnet from seventeenth century Russia. He claimed it was from one of the lovers of Empress Catherine. ‘So now,’ the poet said, showing off his balancing trick with a red soccer ball on his bony knee, ‘Allow me to make a sonnet about this ball.’ ‘Do that, Peter, and we’ll kick yours!’ One of the players cried. Amanda heard the cry and took the glance at the field.. More

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