I’m sitting in a coffeeshop in Sedona, minding my own business and furiously click-clacking away on my laptop, when an older guy sits down at the table to split a bran muffin with his wife. When I pause to look up, he turns to me.

“Are you writing a book?” he asks.

“Not right this minute,” I reply, sort of caught off guard, “but maybe soon.”

“About your travels?”

“Yeah, actually. How can you tell?”
We talked about the Grand Canyon for a moment, and then I went back to my work.
Twenty minutes later, the couple gets up to leave, and the guy places this napkin on my keyboard. 
“Enjoy Arizona,” he said. “It’s a special place.” 
[Sedona, Arizona, January 22, 2012]

I’m sitting in a coffeeshop in Sedona, minding my own business and furiously click-clacking away on my laptop, when an older guy sits down at the table to split a bran muffin with his wife. When I pause to look up, he turns to me.

Are you writing a book?” he asks.

“Not right this minute,” I reply, sort of caught off guard, “but maybe soon.”

“About your travels?”

“Yeah, actually. How can you tell?”

We talked about the Grand Canyon for a moment, and then I went back to my work.

Twenty minutes later, the couple gets up to leave, and the guy places this napkin on my keyboard.

“Enjoy Arizona,” he said. “It’s a special place.”

[Sedona, Arizona, January 22, 2012]