Later. A walk down past the wooden soldier and his giant Christmas tree ornament companion, both evidently having left for other places since I saw them last. A three day life span in photographs, who knows what they were, who left them, who took them to wherever they are.

A bus and then another bus to Telegraph at the University, a walk down Telegraph to have a salad at a familiar place. Same old Telegraph Avenue butting its head against Sather Gate, different people doing the same things people were doing when I first arrived: street people, students, sidewalk vendors (not many this morning), new and used book stores (those are are left), paraphernalia shops, pizza parlors, new and used record stores, clothing boutiques, all with that particular depressing flavor I've always associated with the place. I've seen it too many times. For some, I'd think, once could be enough.

So, a bus ride and then a walk back to the apartment, the sky clear, the sun bright, the afternoon ahead. Time to get ready, I've decided, I've been here long enough. I liked it when I was working not far down the way, but I've probably seen everything I need to see, done everything I need to do. Leave Oakland, not leave Oakland: either way I want to be ready.

I've heard as you grow older many things that once fascinated you lose their allure and their loss can be disconcerting. It is. To some degree it is. Other interests will emerge is the kicker, but they've yet to make themselves known. I've decided you can't go back to old haunts. Look back, sure, but go back to lives you've already lived? I doubt it. There are people I'd enjoy shooting the shit with again over a glass or two, now and again, but now and again would be more than enough for any of us. I'm idling my engines and need to move on. The only step I can see is to prepare for the new, whenever, if ever, it may come.

I'll believe it when I see you cleaning out your storage locker.

As will I. As will I.