remembering palo alto
There was a time when I lived in a nap room in Palo Alto. The Sounds were my heralds; Lawrence Lessig was my poet. I was an undercover defector. One night, in a laundry room off El Camino, I overheard an old couple talk about life. I was there, for every moment, writing this fractal. It was a new beginning — learning Flash was like learning Life.
And I wasn’t alone! [sentimental part begins] Thanks to Kevin for rocking the Hill with me. Thanks to Mark for being a fellow three philosophers. And most special thanks to Todd for the late night hangs and providing a view of how to handle “the end” and “life after the end”.
“Now what’s holding me back? I don’t know.”