It’s on days like this, when the emptiness overwhelms me, that my many faces bring me the most satisfaction. Sitting at the corner of California and Sansome in the financial district of San Francisco, at Fida’s Sandwich Shop, making clown faces and laughing hysterically at passerby’s not because they’re funny, but because the expressions on their face appear to me, even emptier than the thoughts running through my head. Most look away, but sometimes, a smile even wider than my own, will expand across their face. Granted, they could be dreaming of the most amazing scenes or going over the events of a passion filled last night, but to me, they’re just weeds with eyes. Me too. But I wish I was a flower, so I pretend that I am.
My stomach is here.
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