paul squires was a rare person, a creature of delicacy and aplomb, who balanced architecture and magic with words, poetry of the people, a unique and supremely intelligent and perceptive mans 'music'. mr. paul squires was a beautiful human being, unlike any other, whose wit and insight might seem to have vanished, yet if you recall his politic and politeness, he surely deserves a "Sir" salutation on the anniversary of his passing two years this week.
at first one clung to the hope he was still there, formed a rationale to interpret and digest the tragedy, held onto the now-irreplacable tenets he left in sensitive and/or bright and/or colorful messages and missed his encouragement, which can be recognized now as his teaching on how to make the most of the creative spirit et al. i miss the ability to access his astounding mental library on all things writing-related, and now remember up close and/or from a distance, either way one remembers.
it started as a world-still-sleeping sunny morning and now the reedy wind is rippling through the leaves of the big oak, and the weather report is predicting severe thunderstorms as they might come up suddenly without warning, just like that, in the middle of a pleasant summer day. i just changed "in the middle of this pleasant..." to "in the middle of a pleasant...", in effect, a precise example of the detail pauls teachings alerted my senses toward discovering. alerted and altered forevermore.
he was something special.

