San Anselmo 9
Sensei taught me to begin each design with a lump of clay and a brush stroke
on paper. I remember meeting Rom at the Marriott in Portland, and
showing him my preliminary ink drawings. He knew Pascal as well as
anyone. He would know if she'd like the concept.
I remember how he held the thin white paper up to the sunlight and turned
it around and around. He must have looked at it for over an hour.
Fucking Apaches -- never know what's going on in their minds. "Hey,
bro, its spirit is strong," he said at last. "It's cool."
And I breathed a sigh of relief. Man, I was sweating like a fucking
pig -- and I have a black belt in judo. Then I had to piss.
