The bare branches of the elms on the streets of Springfield reached out in anger toward the sky that day, like the hair of Satan writhing up from hell. It was a cold day. Without leaves to massage it, the winter sky was even more severe. The wind would have blown me away if that Old Sea Shanty had not nailed me down to earth... Again I heard her singing to me.
11am tomorrow I will be aboard a plane destined to leave the city of Springfield .
