Fillmore and Pine

Way past the time the sun has anything to say.

Most stores are closed and boredom has cast a couple of shadows.

Tomorrow, the place you've trained for, lies fallow, thankfully.

A couple of people who walk funny pass by, asking for money.

The earphones fit perfectly. They squat in the ears like a homesteader, happy with his 160 acres, just beginning to see what can be done with the land he's been given.

It's neither a man's world or a woman's; it seems to be made for both. Nobody has to say anything for the time being, unless there's something to say.

A little listening goes a long way, like a foghorn.