On a night like this, quiet in the streets, when somehow everyone has collectively stayed at home. When I'm in the middle of the street, walking with my eyes closed, this is when it happens. When they're out, the radios blaring and the panhandlers begging and the birds looking for anything, children and businessmen and dry cleaning, appointments and exercise, that is when I'm lost. When things are never quite right and there are a million options and none of them for me. But here, now, finally, with everyone inside their separate drawers, and I can think and breathe and listen to the openness. I am not alone.
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