Esra = bloody fast @rock.n.roll.es#spqr
Yes I spot random things like car license plates whilst out on holiday, absorbing the history and topping up my vitamin D levels with sunrays. With a touch of vignette added
It's an uneasy feeling to revisit my old haunts in San Francisco this morning. Every memory is as clear as yesterday, yet it's like watching a movie of someone else's life. I'm not sure if they are my memories.
There's a small Inn I used to stay in regularly, and they knew me by name. But I've gone back and everyone I know is gone. To tell them, "I used to stay here" means very little now.
Here's Union Square, the park I'd drink coffee in while the jazzman on the corner made his saxophone sing in reverberation. The buskers and the bums, they're all gone or found someone to fill their place. It's like the marble palace we used to party in. The place is just how I left it; only new crowds in the same amusement park.
I suppose I could continue to wander and relive the memories of another man's life. Or I could start to make some fresh memories for some old fogie to one day watch.