Denise

Coming down the hill, as I passed over the bridge I quickly glanced at the running water in the creek -- the product of last weekend's rains. Then I stood up on my bike pedals and began to climb the shallow slope up to the stop sign. Beneath me I saw something red flash by.

I stopped my bike, set its kickstand, and walked back to see what it that red thing was. But as I walked back along the curb, I saw someone sitting on a large block of limestone watching me.

I continued walking toward the red thing, but I looked over at the person, because it was an odd place to sit.

It was an odd place to sit, because it was at the edge of a thicket overlooking the creek, and the land was basically a no-man's land in the subdivision. I'd never seen anyone there, before. Still, it was at the same time an excellent place to sit, because the rock was just the right size, was flat on the top, and was in a wonderfully shady spot.

As I got closer to the red thing, the person said something.

"I beg your pardon?" I said.

The person was a woman. "You forgot your bike," she said, pointing behind me.

"I know," I said, looking back at it standing on its kickstand beside the curb. "I stopped to see what this red thing was." And I picked up an iTunes gift certificate that was lying on the ground.

"Oh," she said.

"That's a good spot to sit," I said, "in the shade."

"Want to join me?" she asked, picking up a cane and moving it to her other side, making room for me on the rock.

"Ok, I will," I said. And I walked into the shade, unsnapping my helmet as I sat down. "I'm David," I said, and I reached out to shake her hand.

"I'm Denise," she said.

Her voice was scratchy but rang with the song of East Texas. Her eyes were dark. The skin on her hands was dry, and her arms were bruised. She had a T-shirt and a loose black skirt that hung down to her ankles. Her legs dangled over the edge of the limestone seat, and her bare feet were just a few inches above the ground. Her black shoes set next to the rock below her. Her feet looked like they do a lot of walking.

"I'm waiting for my sister," she said. And she told a half-story about her sister being on vacation and not answering her phone and how as a result Denise was locked out of the house with no place to sleep.

"So I sleep outside," she said in a pitiful voice.

"Under the bridge?" I asked. She nodded. "Last weekend?" I asked with wide eyes. She nodded. "There must have been a lot of water down there," I said. She laughed and said, "I had to move three times." And then she told me about another time she had slept in a spot that turned out to be just under a drainage pipe and woke up in the middle of the night with water pouring out on her.

"I just wish my sister would get back," she said, "or at least answer her phone. I barely have anything to eat."

I looked down at her hands that held a 16oz can of Miller beer.

"Is that your lunch?" I asked. Her eyes widened in a half-smile, and she silently nodded. "That's no good," I said. She shook her head.

So we talked some more about the creek. And she repeated her story again about her sister. Then she asked me about the red thing I found in the road. I asked her if she knew what iTunes was. She nodded. I told her it as an iTunes gift card. It had been there for a few days, she said. I nodded.

We were silent for a few seconds. A slight breeze blew.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "If I give you something, will you get yourself something to eat?" I asked. She looked over at me and nodded.

So I pulled a few dollars, a pitifully small amount, out of my wallet and gave it to her. She quickly folded up the money and slipped it in her shirt as I got up and buckled my helmet and began to walk back to my bike.

When I got to the curb, I turned back to her. "Good to meet you, Denise," I said, and I held up my hand.

"Good to me you, David," she said.

I got on my bike and road back home.

11:26:01 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

The Web 2.0 space

Marc Andreessen writes about Web 2.0:

... here's the problem.

Web 2.0 has been picked up as a term ... to describe a theoretical new category of startup companies.

Or a "space", if you will. ... But there is no such thing as a "space".

There is such a thing as a market -- that's a group of people who will directly or indirectly pay money for something.

There is such a thing as a product -- that's an offering of a new kind of good or service that is brought to a market.

There is such a thing as a company -- that's an organized business entity that brings a product to a market.

But there is no such thing as a "space".

9:53:57 AM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []