Wednesday, November 27, 2013

He's got a magnificent brain. In the silver-white gleam of the mirror on the passenger side, through his eyes, I could almost see his mind working. His eyes were busy with the city, scanning the tall stretching towers, the distant houses, the nearby cars. "What is he thinking?" I thought. He seemed to be entangled in enchantment as we drove nearer to our destination. Our friend, and driver, made jokes with us as we hurried off the freeway.

The drive up through the Berkeley Hills seemed endless in all respects; endlessly traveling through endless green, past endless trees and shrubs of endless sorts, 'neath an endless, and undisturbed, warm blue ceiling.

The parking lot was full, but not yet completely occupied, we found parking rather quickly. Other visiters were scattered about the park, each one more anxious and more pale than the next, I was a proud execption, tan and timid. The other hikers looked like money; polos, khaki shorts, baseball caps, sunglasses, sweaters tied loosely around waists', Newbalance shoes. I observed them with skeptical eyes. (incomplete)

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