Oliver set his course from Laurelhurst into the central core of the city. He cruised into the Burnside district, looking for his favorite supplier of illicit substances. He located him at the elephant statue in the North Park Blocks. Standing next to the bronze sculpture written with Chinese iconography of a female elephant with her infant elephant riding on her back, stood his connection with escape from the aching memories of days gone past.
“Yo, Zippy!” called Oliver as he parked on Couch. He strode across the verdant green grass toward a young man of approximately twenty-five years of age. He was tall and slender, boisterous and jubilant, dressed in blue jeans and a leather jacket. A brightly colored knit beanie covered a head of dirty blond dangling dreadlocks.
“Process Man!” e
