b l i n d w r i t i n g

February 8, 2006 "I was young when I left Home." Is the sun shine's tune, this morning's bus #. Sitting in the coffee shop waiting for time, just sipping with out too much to say. Watching traffic and the peculiarities of people, the grocery, the restaraunts loading up, while most blinds above are pulled to rest. Supers Porters The rich man beyond all start their days, requests, thoughts, each trying to just get along. Letters and words published, un- the thoughts questions stories of old and stories of others. Maybe these interests have a way of banding together and making something I didn't quite know about. Is there such a place place race? Is it possible to make something as it si or once was?

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