Thursday, Nov. 16 (on the way to, at, and back from the writing workshop)

• The morning light breakng throught the autumned-leaved tree lights it gold, then reflects coldly off the windsheild of the parked car.

• The dappled light on the old stone wall, merging the leaves with their shadows.

• The sun glowing through the fanned leaves of the palm tree, casting an intricate net of broken lines on the wall

• A old disabled woman, huddled in a  blanked, has been parked on the sidewalk. The red of her hat and scarf eco the red of the no parking marking on the sidewalk. Is she enjoying the air and late afternoon sun, or is she just helpless to move? Her caretaker is completly engrossed wth the phone.
  The tableau is silmotaniously strangly beautiful and heartbreakingly sad. 

• At sunset, a rook stands sentinel over the intersection until the lights change. Then he swoops down over the traffic. Three more rooks join after him, wings sweeping over the moving cars.