Letter to a Gigantopithecus blacki

For once, we aren’t late. The kids keep asking me if we are, but I am able to assure them, we are fine, we’re right on time. I know this place. We just need to park in the big lot…

But I keep looking for the core world, a deeper place, that bright bell of sun. We’re not Presbyterian school girls, after all; we’re in the middle of a wake-up call.

Unassuming. Generic. The coffee shop is just like the many scattered about the city. Virtually indistinguishable in its normalcy.