Tonight as the wind moves through Hastings, past Columbia to the middle of Carrall Street, addicts move from the alleys and gather  underneath the glare of  streetlamps.  They wonder why I am there--perhaps I'm just another object of hatred, or a  body that gets in the way, not allowing enough distance to breath or to have a second look and find someone they might have known in another room, or a different body--maybe a memory, that passed by unnoticed.


"The Prayer"  taken with the Olympus EP2