There is Nothing I Can Say You Haven't Heard: Seattle, 42nd St.

Because it has been said already doesn't mean that it is understood. So we keep finding a new way to say the same things. The hidden meanings. We stumble across them on the street or in a Korean Restaurant. We dream them & wake up & fumble for a pen before it's gone. & It is gone. There are buildings & bridges everywhere. A University town. I am floored by youth; the faces & the conversations & I can't help but feel I missed something. I certainly missed that. I learned something else. The girl with the sores on her arm & the backpack - the one picking her face. That is my education, my university & my mind. The Library of Time. The shelves are packed. A voluminous life. I fooled myself outside of Rep's Motel twenty some years ago. I told myself I had to go in to write the story. I didn't know the door would lock behind me. I didn't know I couldn't go back the way I came in. I've waited so long to tell it. You have waited to hear it I hope. I'd like to think I did it for you...for us.