 Wow. Gracias, Adrián. Sus palabras lindas. My name is Rogi Uyama, and I've been with Right Now group for three years now, and I really want to extend my thanks to Shizue for giving a voice to us as writers and to allow us to open up and share stories that have been hidden for a long time. My piece, I'm going to read a couple of excerpts from Midnight Shift, my piece in this anthology, and it's from a time coming of age 21 when I was back in San Francisco trying to find out who I was in myself and growing up, you know, atypically, not a typical Japanese-American, but being more of a heretic, slacker, and you know, that's the kind of thing. So, here we go, a couple of pieces. I looked at City Light's bookstore in North Beach and also drove a cab from midnight to dawn after that. The summer fog was coming off the bay like a sinuous white serpent winding its way through the streets and alleys of North Beach. My dispatch radio was silent. It looked as if it was going to be a quiet night. I drove up to the top of Montgomery Street and parked at the top of the hill to take in the view of the Bay Bridge. I flipped open the glovebox to find her stash of bourbon and palmel cigarettes. Gazing out at the night, my only company was a great late night jazz on the radio. Sonny Rollins was taking me to a nice place with his horn. Pickup needed at Lombard and Columbus. The dispatcher voice jolted me awake. I took another swig of bourbon and made my way over the hill. As I approached Columbus Avenue, I saw an apparition flaning its arms. As I got closer, a tall woman in a dazzling skin tight evening gown and some kind of fur wrap. Her hair was a mile high. The sparkling sequins made her appear as some kind of exotic mermaid in a night. She flung open the door and jumped in. I was waiting forever in a day. Where were you? She reeked a booze perfume and sweat. Where to? She flipped on the dome light to adjust a false eyelash and started to apply powder to what appeared to be a five o'clock shadow. She had Mason Street and step on it. I called myself staring at her. What? Want to take a picture? Her exaggerated eyebrows gave her a look of constant excitement. I was just admiring how beautiful you look tonight. She smiled. You're sweet. I need to hear that. Got a Fairytale 60 Taylor. He's waiting outside and around the block, Chet Baker was pulling sweetness from the radio, putting a smile on my face as I approached. Where do you want me to take you? Where do you want me to take you? Take me to the Golden Gate Bridge a place where you can see the whole city. I was here last night just over there on the path up to the bridge. I was on my way to the end. The early glow of dawn lightened the sky as a lone maintenance guy started to sweep the walkway in the front. We sat silent, each of us thinking of our own waywardness. You can take me home now. It was a road quietly back to the tenderline. I glanced back at him. He seemed so serene and content that I was a bit envious. I was still shadowboxing with my own personal turmoil. That'll be 20 bucks. He disappeared into his drab apartment. I parked for a moment to reflect on our conversation. I shut off the radio. In the silence I felt the new sense of calm and renewed courage. The need to keep running for something subsided. For once, it was enough to be in my own skin. Thank you very much.