Dogs have an uncanny sense of eachothers whereabouts.
In the right mood, one can feel (or imagine to feel) the heat from street lamps.
Roots are resentful of the cement over them – sidewalks don’t stay flat for long.
Drivers don’t often find stop-signs mandatory after a certain time.
The more civilized we become, and the more we develop our surroundings, the more obscured are the constellations, clear sky or not.
A lot of noises one imagines the worst of are really nothing.
Rarely do people walk alone and aimless at night.
A playground looks mechanical without occupants.
There are too many cars per household.
Too many homes now are vacant.
Too many for-sale signs.
Deer look out of place in a cul-de-sac.
There are still coyotes in the hills.
Breathing is simple, until you think about how simple it is.
Slugs are calligraphers – leaving silver letters on cement.
Walking distorts the horizon as it rises and falls with each step.
Absent of people, night feels, looks and smells cleaner than day.
The underneath of a bridge, however small, is a thing of mystery and imagination.
The longer the clock winds, the more restless and emotional people become.
Walls are not ten feet thick.