Untitled Grey, overcast sky, a flannel blanket over the bay, Black stone underfoot tiled and more yielding than most paths- The vast expanses of glittering dark walkway are empty of the crowds today, this close to the holiday. Moving past, a spot of colour, a couple, tourists In shorts and cameras, holding hands as they might have in many years passed. A man, sitting in front of a coffee shop, with a sign that tells the world about his daughter that he wants to see- A soldier in a war for oil, disillusioned and sitting on the street. He wishes me good morning as I walk into the shop. I remember surprise that it was open, being so early, on a weekend, in the business district. As I stand at the corner, I rub my eyes, sleepy. I still feel his arms around me, smell the exhaust the bus left in it's wake. Two coffees, one cappuccino, three croissants, and a cruller (or whatever you Americans call it) I walk out, handing the man a few dollars. We speak for a few moments and I hail a cab - back to the hotel to wake the others. It's 9:00 am. ©1998 - Nicole Toivonen.