Found

Bo was still laughing. Months of constant giggling, guffawing, light huffing and face bending smiles had chiseled a jawline and sculpted Bo's abdominals. All with minimal pain felt and small effort expended. A joyful life since it had been found!

It had just been lying there. Dusted with sand and kicked in the dark under the bamboo bunk. Black cover unseen by how many who passed through after? Another piece of flotsam mislaid, misplaced or dumped by an affluent young adventurer looking for an authentic experience.

Bo always picked up after travellers. Really. Always and every day. It was their livelihood and consumed the hours of their life. Picking and cleaning was tiring and tiresome but sometimes slightly rewarding. The well trod path was well strewn with treasures trashed. This one, a notebook, was the size of a scrubbing sponge but lighter. Light enough to fly Bo towards another kind of life.

The sleek black cover was a nod to stylish minimalism seen many times before. On occassion flicked open at the chipped check-in desk to check a flight number. At other times glimpsed hanging limp in a hand over the edge of a hammock. Usually the little books were filled with essential notes or inanities and most often a few half-written, sputtering journal entries. This time was different. This time it contained unimaginable riches.

Except these riches had been imagined by the owner of the hand that had danced that backwards leaning scrawl across every page. Threads woven together by a mind not sleeping. A world imagined into existence by a writer. Herein lay a continuation of the story that had made them famous. The name caused Bo to jolt when, on cracking the cover there were the words; “In case of loss please return to________.”

Bo knew immediately but doubted and ran to check. Yes! There, upside down and backwards in the ‘Take one leave one’ shelf, the pages splayed out with moisture, dog ears and flicking, was one of the many copies of that everywhere book. The book that flew off and returned every few weeks in a new skin like a chameleon crossed with a homing pigeon. The book that had appeared in no less than eight languages and that was discussed over ‘free’ beverages on the sagging couches. The name on the spine was identical to the one inside the notebook.

Nine hours of bare bulb reading (or scrawl deciphering...) revealed the world of the book was not identical. No. Layers of story had been applied. Characters had grown and multiplied. Yet the heart was the same.

A tentative email found that heart.

“Dear Madam,

I think I have found something that you belong to…”

It bounced back almost immediately and every head in the place turned at the sound of Bo’s joyful and incredulous giggles. The gratitude expressed by the author was real.

“Dear Bo,

Thank you so much for writing. I felt I was missing a part of my own body when I could not find the notebook! I can’t believe how careless I was with it. I have been trying to recreate what I wrote these many months since and I have despaired.

I just cannot believe I might see it again…”

The good fortune turned both in a dizzying about face. It had not been lost.

Bo’s laughing continued when the phone rang with a fumbling “friend”..ly lawyer attempting to negotiate in broken words. More chuckles with relief when Bo spoke in accented but fluent English. Followed by delight on Bo's end of the line at the quick inflation of what was offered when Bo described the brilliant plot twist and offered praise and congratulations.

Like pulling the tab on a life vest…. POP!

More than could be imagined. No back and forth or argument. Just ‘yes!’

It had been imagined and now was real.

Bo knew just what had been swept off that guesthouse floor. A promise. A new adventure in real life because of the words on those pages. The ‘In reward______’ section had been blank but it was not empty. Now Bo lived the fully realised luxury of living to create, not creating to live. No more selling tired tourist approved designs made quick and cheap by the dozen. No more singing tunes for tips. Tunes that sold either familiarity or foreignness and that just never rang true. Life was now richer with learning. Bo was creating a world where growth was possible. Layers were added to the story. Painting replaced picking and monotonous cleaning gave way to changing and charging through what had always held them back.

Saving a creation saved a creator and so the laughter rang on.