Left Blank

Early last century, I was living in the City of Light, Paris (the one in France). Trying to be a hipster living by the River Seine with all the artists, writers, and hippies. But I made a typographical mistake! I finally found the “Left Blank” of the river, a nice little brasserie with a room with a view available for a few francs. Unfortunately, I didn’t meet my fellow starving artists there. In fact, it was more like the Blank Hole of Calcutta; what went in was not seen again.

I managed to make my escape by discovering a secret passageway in the subcellar, under the river to the Right Bank. Good thing it was a bank, because I could bring nothing with me.

Ah, those were the days, mon ami! I finally met Hemingway, Joyce, and Stein. They sponsored me for a couple of years study at la Sorbonne, where my paper on Interspecies Storytelling: Digital or Analog? was well received. Then onward to other travels and other times.

Never Left Blank again!