<![CDATA[
<body bgcolor="#000000" link="#6600CC" vlink="#6600CC" text="#ffffff" alink="#ffffff">
<center>
<pre>
</pre>
<table>
<tr><td align=center valign=center><font size="7">Meeting Peter </font></td></tr>
<tr><td align=right valign=center><font color="#6600CC">by <a href="/is/alexis/" target="_top">Alexis Massie</a></font></td></tr>
</table>
<table cellpadding="10" cellspacing="10"><tr><td>
<font size="4">
<P>I'm meeting Peter for lunch. He apologizes for the fact that he's late and then launches into a long explanation of why he hates his job.
<p>It is the second time that we've met for lunch, though the continuous nature of our email correspondance has lent a sort of familiarity to the conversation.
I already know, for example, that he likes having strange animals as pets. Ferrets,
tarantulas, llamas. I know that he spends too much time thinking about work.
He habitually stares at walls as though they hide the secrets of the universe.
Maybe they do.
<p>
And he stares out the window often, as we eat and talk about the inevitable
death of the WIMP interface and how much he would like to own a blue macaw.
His eye-brows bunch up. He concentrates with such intensity that you can
perceive your presence being zoned out, ceasing to matter or even to exist.
<p>
It has come to be a habit that when he slips into these reveries, I remain
completely still and take advantage of the time I am given to look at him.
<p>
<a href="page2.html"><b>Peter is a very attractive man.</b></a>
</td></tr></table>
</center>
</body>
]]>