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    You’re able to collect yourself a little better on the walk from Montgomery Street across the highway to the Greyhound Bus station on Packard – a little better as in you have better chances swimming toward the uncertainties of a black hole than free-floating in outer space.

    “What is going on?” is the most popular phrase chosen by your brain in its time of great discomfiture.

    Before you know it you’ve stepped onto a bus, paid the fare, scooted into row D seat 1 against the window and you’re off to the potentially emerald and jasper land of who-knows-where. In an attempt to relocate your sanity, you create your own personal isolation & sensory deprivation tank by curling up your legs and letting your knees press against your eyeballs. All of the kaleidoscope neon phosphenes and patterns eventually give way to a gaggle of tiny green macaroni noodles that slowly take over and make you open your eyes again.

    “Boulder Exit 74 1 Mile” the next sign you can see informs you before your bus takes that very exit…


    If you get off here at Boulder, go to page 104.

    If you think you need more reflective downtime on the bus, go to page 205.


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