Nov 8, 2003

I’m sitting on borrowed patio furniture in my empty new place in San Francisco. It’s raining and I hear wind chimes. Are they actual wind chimes or are the raindrops trying to communicate with me from the future through some kind of enigmatic water song? This is a question I leave unanswered as I attempt to set up a makeshift office for tomorrow. There’s a book I’m supposed to write.

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