I’m not dying, at least of anything I am aware of. But, if you think about it, aren’t we all on the journey towards death the moment we are born? Never mind, I’m not here to be a smart ass. I just recently read an article in the New York Times called The Lonely Death of George Bell. It’s about what happens to someone when they die who have no dependents or next of kin. George Bell died alone in his apartment and wasn’t found for at least a week when a neighbour noticed the smell.

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The sound of the car slamming into bones bounced off the street. An empty skateboard rolled past me as people ran on to the road and other cars stopped with a screech.

Heading up Castro Street, I took a hard right onto Market Street and was walking uphill towards the water when I saw the skateboarder rolling fast downhill towards the intersection. I don’t want to blame the victim, but he was clearly out of control and going full speed into traffic. I mean, what the hell else did he think was going to happen?

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