Dad played Jazz when he drank, aint no accident.
In Paris there are lines out side of McDonalds.
People waiting in the freezing weather of snow melting slowly, rain falling lightly. Gare du Nord, off Bouleard de Magenta. Where it crosses on Rue La Fayette. Our apathy is a universal, between the shops and the trash in the streets there are people walking. The only ones without a destination are the homeless. Under the shelf of an bankrupted store i see a homeless man's bed made.