[12:25 a.m.] : [2013-01-22]
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I got on a BART train that was counting street numbers up heading out of Oakland and slunk down passed out asleep there in the middle of the afternoon was a young woman. She was jaw gaping out in her I-HOP uniform, top complete with name tag and requisite pieces of flair. Her eyes shadowed in a cheap compact lavender and everything about her screamed with exemplary detail the single working mother cliche you see in television dramas that try to hard to be described by words like "gritty" and "real". There on that crowded car as I watched her sleep despite the bright afternoon sun shining in her eyes I hoped she was heading home. And maybe it was the insomniac part of me that has been kept awake for weeks at a time that sympathized with her but I couldn't help but wonder how long had she been working before that nap and when the last time was she had had a good night's sleep.
There are two sketches on the page of the book before where I had written the above text. They're of a heavy bag and a magnolia blossom. There had been a time when the sight of one made me desperately need the other. There is a small date separating the two pencil drawings.
Three pages after the above text is the half drawn figure of a man wearing a bow tie, his hands would be out stretched if I could have gotten the perspective right.
If the two dates as are two be believed then it is entirely possible the above happened (and was written originally) sometime between 20 July 8 and 7 March 10. |
