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Communication to the world (Los Angeles)

At the local coffee shop with the usual suspects, lurking around behind their laptops.
They never look up or say a word.
The Barista is being constantly harassed by homeless men.

I'm pretending to be a writer, but I only wish I was.
A writer writes, some obnoxious writer said to me many years ago.

I try to muster some sort of magic with this keyboard, trying to type something genius, but my photos don't match
anything I'm selling.

Still looking for her.........

She was a girl I saw at some amusement park I went to as a teenager.
We didn't say anything to each other, I have absolutely no clue who she was,
but after thirty years I still remember her.
To be clear I don't remember her face, it's just the memory of what if.
Seems my whole life is a series of what if.
What if I had the courage to say something, that moment is always frozen in time.

post id: 7747607013

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