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birds fly backwards ....

on the way out of the coffeehouse this morning and back to my car, I passed a young man sitting by himself at a table. Pale skin and dark hair that fell in half-curls to his collar and an intense look on his face as he scrawled words into a journal.
As I passed him with my coffee I wanted to stop and place it down on his table and then sit down next to him without an invitation.

Just sit there and watch him write. Look at the pen as it channeled thoughts from his brain onto paper.

But he didn't even notice me and I kept on walking and got in my car - carefully so as not to spill the scalding coffee - and turned up the stereo very loudly in an effort to shake off the sadness.

I suppose that's what I get for going to see "Lovely and Amazing" last night...

11:53 am - 08.05.02

sounds: Ed Harcourt
words: wishing I knew what words he wrote - but maybe some things are better as mysteries
i am: not sure ... of anything

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previously on ... - next time on ...

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