the wind is howling violently outside, rattling the windows in their panes.

this evening, as i walked along river street back to my car, i took note of the dirty street pigeons huddling on the ground, amidst their splattered white birdshit graffiti... (usually, i walk cautiously beneath them as they perch on the branches of the tired trees) i saw a small group of homeless people huddled at the foot of some chinese clan's hangout, with a couple of wild-eyed lookouts, and about four prone forms huddled under dirty sheets...

i thought about living on the street, without walls. i can almost feel myself leaking away without a room of my own. all of my colors and thoughts fade out in the sun, and lose themselves in the shadows. and the wind... i imagine trying to anchor myself with dirty fingernails on the cold concrete in the face of that wind, the wind that would make me another piece of garbage, to be tossed hither and yon, unwanted.

i thought about how people (how i) solve problems simply by bracketing them. there are things too big for anyone to deal with. if we opened ourselves up to the endless uncertainties and anxieties, then we would be paralyzed and sleepless, forever. it is so much more convenient to think only of today, and of that small group of friends and family that i circumscribe as my own, my self, my love. the world may end tomorrow, for all that i care. for the little that i care...

***

the world is hungry for kindness and for love. just give it a little of these, and see what comes to life. you'd think the faces were all dead and jaded; but if given the opportunity, if given the chance and attention, then they will change and move and speak to you. everyone has something to say, a story to tell. the cold and dead statues in the background, every single one, has a whisper of an echo to share with you, about life before everyone forgot their names...

***

"goodbye," whispered the walls. "tomorrow, you will leave me."
"i will never leave you," came the voice from within. "you have always been so faithful. you have held me safe, held me fast, for all this time. how could i ever leave you?"
"tomorrow, you will leave me," repeated the walls, as if in echo. "tomorrow, you must."
just as insistently, the voice within repeated over and over again, "i will never leave you."
but as the sun crested the skies and descended into the western shadows, and as the moon took its turn leaping across the vast firmament, something grew and something receded. and there was a blind moment of fullness to bursting, and when it past, there were no walls and no voice within.
there was just me.