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Day 17: Sometimes I Dream in Farsi

Boulder was nice. I wandered around the Naropa campus and saw all the spots we used to hang out. Most of them were gone -- all the picnic tables. Just gone.

I also tried the writing program office, but it had signs there that said closed, so I just sat and waited near the library. Thankfully, Aquiles found us.

He showed up and went right into interview mode. I guess running a company makes him good at public speaking. That's what I thought at the time, but then I realized he's just a good writer. Like Bobbie said: "A good writer is a good talker, and a good talker is a good writer."

I felt really proud of Aquiles. He had become such a wise, generous, and upright citizen of the world. It was good to see and I told him so.

Then we headed to Bobbie's old house on Bluff street. I talked about my dream with her, and then we played some of her reading a few poems with the three of us listening in her front lawn. It was my way of paying my respects. I hate funerals, but I can handle small things on my own.

Meina started crying when she heard Bobbie read a poem about women being heroes. I wasn't sure why. Then Aquiles explained how he had a similar reaction when he was standing in front of a Joan Miro painting one time.

"I was overwhelmed, because I understood he had captured something beyond language," Aquiles said. "The same thing happened to you with Bobbie's piece."

I didn't know if Aquiles wanted to go out to eat or what. Meina said she thought he wanted to head off with his friend. I wasn't sure, so I took the two of them to the closest place I could think of -- The Boulderado. They didn't want to go there. Then, as usual, they wandered from one restaurant to another, until they were finally cool with the Mountain Sun: the most hippie place in Boulder. Lots of vegetarian options, and they were happy.

By the time we left, and I was driving them down Pearl Street, we ran into Aquiles again. He was surprised and thought we would have been in Utah by now, so we shot the shit for another half hour or so.

By the time we really left Boulder, I could feel I didn't even want too. There's something so peaceful about being there. It's a really good town with the mountains and all. It kind of wants you to stay forever. I suppose that's why it was so hard leaving. For some reason, the GPS had me go through the mountains at night. It was so tough. Meina was screaming the whole time. It was sort of like being in Saas Fee in Switzerland, when those buses would take you up the mountain -- all these sheer drops and craggy cliffs alongside you. In the dark, it just made it seem more ominous and scary. Add to that, my fatigue and windy roads I wasn't used to, and it was an experience.

When we finally got to some place about 20 minutes before Utah, I had us stop.

"I can't go anymore," I announced.

Tomorrow is heading to Las Vegas to see Noah. I hope I can sleep more than four hours tonight.

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