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The Fleur de Sel Diaries

Diary entry # 3.79
I can not begin to tell you how wonderful it is to be back. Let me
repeat that. Even though I was gone I wasn't really. More on that
later. Just let me tell you where I have been is a brutal muck
racking back breaking kid of place. My brain has been bloodied and
broken. Broken into teeny little pieces – each one with a number.  And
inside each number is a chart filled with symbols rollicking to and
fro. Be advised – they hang low.

There he is – that Tribeca man – the one who salts his coffee. He
followed me out of the coffee shop. I hung to the right so he could
pass and follow him I did. Strange shoes. Slight limp – a hip on its
way out.

It's the numbers. They are everywhere. I can't seem to get enough of
them. Did I say that before?



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