Leaving

My friend Joaquin is leaving Berkeley right now. I know it since some days ago, but it wasn't until today, before having dinner, that a strange sadness penetrated every single muscle of my body. A part of myself is also leaving Berkeley. One day, on the hills, we had the bay at our feet. The grass was green, the soul was blue. You were holding a note book with your hands, and I was trying to read some political economy paper. But the bay was stronger. The bay, always the bay.