Walking up the hill from our parking garage to the building this morning, I spotted a flash of blue in the grass next to me. When I bent down and read it, I felt like I was suddenly overhearing a private phone conversation and looked around to see if anybody was near me. Something about the scratchy writing and pleading tone of the note struck me, so I took a picture of it.
It obviously could’ve been written by a child.
Or, it could have been someone stricken by the wisest thoughts they’ve ever found at the bottom of a glass. A person so moved in the bar that they were driven to write down some notes so they’d remember the next day.
I’m just saying. I’ve done that several times before myself, and when I found the note the next day, while it was written in the heat of a prosaic passion, it seemed trite and hardly worth pursuing. Provided I could even understand it at all.
I hadn’t thought of the second possibility- something about the way it shifts from first to third person kind of threw me. I can TOTALLY see how this could have been a drink-fuelled note to oneself.