In this scene, Pedro is alone, driving a bus from his home base in San Luis Obispo, CA to San Jose. This idea started to percolate a couple months ago when Nadia convinced me to try a Quaker meeting in Atascadero. Aside from their predominance in the history of Pennsylvania and their association with oatmeal, … Continue reading
We arrive back at Azucar Mountain Road, and turn onto its straighter, flatter track. We are about twenty minutes from the campground now. Bird #1 stands up and takes the bus microphone in her left hand, chewing the fingernails on her right. She queues the microphone but stalls. I wonder what is going through her … Continue reading
In this scene, the narrator, Pedro, has driven a busload of birdwatchers to a location among the oilfields of California’s southern Central Valley. He had a short night of sleep and a redeye departure before a long day ahead, so he is trying to get some rest in the back of the bus. “My eyes … Continue reading
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