Saint Zebulon

For Saint Zebulon, a saint of dreams, I cast Irving Wexler who used to live next to me on Broadway and Great Jones Street. He was a sweet, drifty guy who talked about his writing and reminded me a little bit of my father. These are the last lines from the title story of a book he wrote; The hours move by, almost motionlessly, like clouds without a wind. He wonders, as the first glint of light streaks through the window, will the morning be any kinder than the night?