Imagine

John Lennon's birthday today. I went to strawberry fields quite a while a ago: it was the first time i went there. There was an indian guy singing beatles' songs with his guitar while I was sitting on the bench across the imagine mosaic. I happend to met him again on my way home at port autority subway station where he asked me the exit and recognized me as "the kid at strwberry field". Well, New york is like this, full of strange encounters. Go back to Lennon, I don't really have things to do on his birthday today. I am writing a college essay describing popular culture and it is mandatory. You kow I will not enjoy it; yet the spirit cannot be forgotten. I will keep struggling.