As I walked home, I was stopped by someone who looked a bit like Sharon. He gestured to the playground to my left -- "There's not a school there?". "No", I said. He said that he had attended school there 62 years ago, and was visiting back for the first time. He then walked on. I walked a bit further, turned, and lookd at the playground again, and then continued home.

I had a song on repeat in my CD player, and just as I reached my apartment and opened the door, it ended. I opened the door to the beat, and I now wonder if I walked to the beat too.

I'm writing this in my living room. I will now continue through and check on the SuSE install on my big Alpha. Parting thought -- Only the mix of the mundane and the deep makes me real to you. Not a reason, but an argument against an internalized past rebuke on mixing both in my journal.