The homeless prey on guilt. They look. I saw a man one day sitting with his eyes closed. He had a paper cup and a small placard. I saw an old lady pedaling hard to climb the pavement on her three-wheeler. A long haired man walked by grunting what could be a death metal tune. Perhaps it made sense to him. I could be that man. Or the man on top of the hill. Or any other.
The chord sequence I'm playing, and yes, I am playing a chord sequence, is F#m followed by a C#, an Em and finally an F#. It leads to a Bm, an E7 and ends as it begins in an A.
The evening breeze was sudden, warm and cold, like a massage. Or coffee.
- Nikon D90