I take the Metro rail to Slauson and transfer to the 851. Twenty five minutes later, I’m getting of at Trouble Road. I walk about four blocks to the Shelter.

It seems quite far for a holiday, coming out. I suppose Thanksgiving as a whole doesn’t emit a lot of sharp or loud noises. It’s more of an inner celebration with every minute, sending my self visions of past days, and many other memories that branch off of one another, creating a mosaic of my life. It’s a beautiful thing when I have a vision like that, but also very rare.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A slight shade of darkness or sadness lies over my heart; strong sense of melancholy. But why wallow? I can cook. Let’s see: Turkey, roast pie, all the trimmings.

Hey, I can cook, I’ll find my guests later.

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