May Twenty One. Two thousand eleven. Saturday. It’s eight in the evening. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. My eyes stay open even underneath the closed lids, and I think fleetingly about tomorrow. I’m tucked into my warm bed, lying flat against the bed covers,...
San Francisco. Monday, June 20, 2011. Walking in San Francisco. Wow. When you come down off of a high like this, the world – the normal world, with people floating in and out and waking up, walking around – looks strange. Normal is strange. Regular looks...
