I'm writing this from one of those rest stops with the 'wifi hotspots' along I-90, somewhere between Ellensburg and Seattle. I wanted to use the restroom, maybe purchase a can of Coke. In front of the vending machines, something caught my eye. A beautiful leather-bound notebook. I haven't opened it yet; I'm waiting here to see if someone comes by looking for it. I always hate it when someone reads something I'm writing, and I'd hate to do the same to someone else.
It's got me wondering, though, whose it is, what the story is. If nobody comes in an hour or so I'll take a look. The thing about it that really intrigues me, is it looks as if it was placed there intentionally.
Enticing.
20061202
meditations on a leather-bound journal, pt. i
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That's a lot better than what I usually find at rest stops: Strange wind chimes (seriously, there was a stop somewhere in Missouri that had trees decorated with elaborate wind chimes and had wind sculptures throughout) or empty vending machines. Sometimes a map of Iowa (with "HELL YES NO MORE CORN" written at the top), but always the latest technology in automated restrooms.
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