A Man Impossible to Classify

The young man walked up to us still smiling and, without a word, pointed again. I stared in puzzlement. At this he nodded his head and, to clarify matters, repeated the pointing. "What do you mean?" I managed to ask. "Donuts!" He said. "Do you guys like donuts?" It was 1965. He was one of the first people I met in San Francisco, a street person, and the story that followed spanned some twenty years. Nothing about it could have been predicted.

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