Non-Fiction, Random Thoughts
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Found, and Lost Again

Found black leather bound note book with journal entries starting December 7 until the last one December 21, Solstice Day. It was at the top of the escalator, swept by every step rolling into the metallic comb, at the Embarcadero Muni Station, some time past nine pm.
There was no name and address in the book, but well-structured notes taken at the end had plans to find a place to stay, among other things. The first journal entry speaks of the author liking a woman called Cindy, but the last entry, on Solstice Day, is written hastily with a bad pen and concludes with “too much speed, not enough sleep.”
In retrospect, when I entered the BART side of the station, there was someone who seemed to be having a bad trip on top of the gates, the attendant not minding anything but his own business. How could I know, at that time, this could have been the writer?
I left it on the round stone bench at the east side end of the BART station, as I saw no good in taking it away from San Francisco where it belonged. Seeing that, the good Samaritan next to me alerted me to it, and I said “it’s not mine.”

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