Every morning I have my breakfast of English muffins with peanut butter and a touch of blueberry jam facing my street and always that abandoned car in front of me. About two months ago, I saw a young man in that car, but it seemed like he had trouble starting the engine. I ate one side of the muffin slowly, and from the first bite to the last, it was exactly how long it took him to start the car. After that, I never saw him again, but I am reminded of him whenever I see his car, which happens every morning.
Intriguing synchronicity, yesterday I was both reading and writing about Quixote. Also am a huge fan of Sontag and Styles of Radical Will.