somedays i sit by the beach, reading the paper and eating my lunch, and i look out and see a tanker passing by, wondering whose on it, where they're from and where they're going. So many things pass us by about which we can no nothing, and yet they form part of who we are and what we write about like this. Somewhere out there, someone is wondering about you, even asking the question, »why were they doing that, what were they up to? « I think that's one of the coolest aspects of life.
