I told Serena that I didn’t want to miss this city while I was still in it, because that makes it impossible/hard to enjoy, and enjoying is the only living thing

I’m sitting in one of the alcoves made of greenery and metal and wooden fences, hiding me from the view of the street as well as effectively canceling out much of the noises coming from the other patrons at this amazing community cafe. Will say more about the cafe in a moment, but I am currently watching the struggle of a butterfly on the ground, near my feet, about to die. Or so I think. It seems injured somewhere, I am not a biologist, or an insect specialist or an animal lover. Partially I am freaked out of the winged creature coming too close to me with its frantic movements, trying to fly I think. But from the twenty minutes or so of observation I say it’s not gonna make it. S/he has been fluttering uselessly around my table, unable to get off the ground, making the same poor circling movements, and sometimes lying down so still I think it’s dead. Seconds later I see the opening and closing of the wings like the flutter of a nervous woman’s eyelids.

Cafe is closing. My Americano is drunk, and I must pack up and leave before I can post this. And the butterfly is still there. I don’t want to leave it dying alone.

Ignatius Cafe: I only found it because it was close to the USC Village where I could drop off my Amazon return item. Tis run by a Korean Catholic parish folks. In the hour I had stayed a priest/father came by, a young couple with their baby, half a dozen Asian Am students no doubt from the school, some white folks and brown folks working on stuff or deep in conversations. A kind girl paid for my coffee because I had no cash (should’ve known… it’s donation-based) while the barista just told me to enjoy it for free at first. There’s no password to the WiFi. And did I mention I am sitting in a green alcove?

In about two minutes I will walk out, hopefully to a car that’s not broken into. The neighborhood this cafe is situated in is where I’ve grocery-shopped during my first ever “urban mission” back in the summer of 2005. I met Curtis that summer. I read Amos. I decided that the comfortable Church needed to hear about the wrath of God. A lot has happened since then.

The butterfly had not died yet.