this nostalgia i've been feeling, this sickness i identify as such: have i been obsessing all wrong? am i mourning not the loss-of-the-thing, but the person i was at the time?
i stopped for lunch with some friends yesterday, a little hole-in-the-wall vietnamese restaurant surrounded by a closed-down pawn shop, an empty lot with a sign promising the best furniture, reams of graffiti, a boarded-up 7-11. a slow lunch of spring rolls, deluxe beef pho, vietnamese coffee. great food, and grateful for such good company.
paying my bill, i take a fortune cookie. note my lucky numbers. i read the fortune. someone is thinking of you.