Part 1

Soundtrack: Lions & Tigers & Bears / On The Run

If you want some background-future-past you can read the link.

I'm not going back there.

I'm staying here in the Hotel Tijuana, tattered couches and dark corners and red velvet so old it feels like sandpaper, yet sexy, dirty and old, when you slide your fingers slowly across it.

I have a room upstairs. It has a bed on the floor, two pictures on the walls and a view over the street. I wish I could move my typewriter there so that I could feel the rain on my face when I wrote, but I can't. It's not a writing window. It's purpose is to remind me that there is a world out there, right there in front of me, and all I have to do is put my dirty white shoes on and head downstairs.

Join the noise and the chaos and the masses.

********

I open my eyes and I like what I see. The window is open and the rain is soft, but best of all, behind the mist, is a single finger of pure golden light. Straight from God or whoever pushes the buttons up there.

Straight from "them" to my window sill.

Beautiful.

I take a shower and wash away the stories I have left behind.

Wash Hell from under my fingernails and feel all the better for it.

I think I'm going to like it here.

I think I feel at home.