I sat for decades at morning breakfast tea looking out my kitchen window, one day recognized my own world the familiar background, a giant wet brick-walled undersea Atlantis garden, waving ailanthus («stinkweed») «Trees of Heaven,» with chimney pots along Avenue A topped by Stuyvesant Town apartments’ upper floors two blocks distant on 14th Street, I focus’d on the raindrops along the clothesline. «Things are symbols of themselves,» said Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. New York City August 18, 1984