“Do you like the little birdies?”

Yesterday, I was walking downtown at the end of the afternoon. It was the first time in ages I had been down on 3rd, near Benaroya Hall. All summer long, I’ve been walking around my neighborhood, or driving where I need to go. But school meetings have begun again, and suddenly I”m just like every working joe–riding the bus.

So I was coming back from the ferry dock (my school’s fancy; our first day of meetings was at a retreat center on Bainbridge), just walking north. And in the space of a block, I saw the following:

–an older man staring straight ahead, shaving his chin as he walked, with a blue Bic disposable.
–two young men dressed in identical Michael Jackson jerseys, long red shorts, fancy hats, and gold chains
–a middle-aged man who looked at me, then said, “The streets of Seattle make you dress like that.” (I was in a tank top. So was nearly every other woman. It was 75 degrees out.)

And finally, I stopped to take this picture. I liked the lines, the crisp blue of the sky, something about the texture. I didn’t notice the older woman in it, looking up at the building. When I took my camera from my eye, she looked at me sweetly, then said, “Do you like the little birdies?”

Well, I’m back to the city now.

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