One day a few years ago I found myself holding a tattered piece of paper embellished with mysterious writing.
The words, one or two per line, appeared to be in code. English? Perhaps. But I couldn’t make out what they said. Was this a ransom note? A warning? The secret formula for Coca-Cola?
Well, no, actually. It was my grocery list.
I had jotted the items down earlier in the week. But none of the words looked familiar. The lines rambled like the path of an inebriated beetle in the throes of a Charley horse.
I squinted at it.