The Crow grew up somewhere up in the frozen north, where the sea is gray even in the summer, and even at an early age never learned to listen, or pay attention. Always marching to the beat of his own drummer, his mom would say. In back of the class sitting shy, or in front telling jokes. Always one or the other.
Even at an early age, his favorite movies always the ones with the most interesting music. Barely paid attention to the plot.
Barely waist high, and even then always wandering further than he was allowed to go, and just not telling his parents all the places where he had been. Traded good grades for reading Asimov, Clark and Zelazny under his desk while the teachers talked and made as much sense as seagulls.
Fidgety, getting older, starting to hitchhike to other cities and sleep in dorm rooms, stranger's couches and under bushes in city parks to see the world. Then leaving home when he could, working in restaurants, construction, oil fields, living hand to mouth. A few hundred dollars and back on the road.
Then taking his sidewalk act to other countries. Girlfriends helped there
The 20s come and go. Coming back to the states and driving a cab. For years. He thinks: I guess this is who I am. But then someone gave him a computer, and he ends up making money in technology, enough to pay for a wife, a house, kids, cars, dogs, cats chickens, the lot. Pack up and move to Silicon Valley. Oz. The Emerald City. He thinks again: I was an old world cab driver. Now this. How the hell did that happen,
30 years, poof. Kids grow up and the wife says see ya. He ends up back on his bike wandering through the Northwest and finds Bandon by the Sea. Beautiful small town, wind battered coast, remote, friendly. Cool people.
A good place to bury your face in a crowd of stars, and listen to the music of the spheres.
Just like when he was a kid.
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