History in my hand

Posted: October 19, 2004 in Uncategorized

This morning, a fellow transplant from polynesia stopped by my desk, as he occasionally does to “talk story” or hook me up with some of his wife’s homemade musubi. This time, he started telling us a story about one night back in Hawaii, during his days as a professional musician. He was playing guitar at one of the resorts, and a German tourist came over and told him he had something he wanted to give to an American. At this point, the guy telling this story pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. It took a second for me to register what it was I was holding. It was a flat-ish piece of broken concrete, one side finished flat and brightly painted orange and green. At first glance, an unremarkable piece of rubble, apart from the bright colors and a smooth feeling despite its rough appearance, like it had been handled countless times.

This morning, I held part of the Berlin wall.

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Comments
  1. eliish says:

    That. Is so. Cool.

  2. Anonymous says:

    That. Is so. Cool.

  3. zevhonith says:

    This made me get all teared up at my desk.

  4. Anonymous says:

    This made me get all teared up at my desk.

  5. Anonymous says:

    WOW šŸ™‚

  6. Neat. šŸ™‚ I have a big hunk of it, myself. No paint on it, though.

  7. Anonymous says:

    Neat. šŸ™‚ I have a big hunk of it, myself. No paint on it, though.

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