THE HIDDEN TRACK

The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea.
-- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik



Thought Provoking Activities of Simple Labor:

I like to pour my coffee into a white coffee mug and observe the contrast of the black coffee with rainbow bean oil on top against the white ceramic glazed walls of the mug.

I add a good amount of cream to the center in hopes that it’ll fuse with the coffee without prompting – it never does. But truth be told, I fully enjoy dipping a spoon into the blackness and watching as the most delicate movements stimulate the cream to billow and plume and mix thoroughly with the coffee, transforming the bitter black to an inviting creamy tan.

My life – at the moment at lease – is pleasant and completely manageable.
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