17 July 2009

There’s a shirtless man pacing on the roof of a building on the opposite side of Metropolitan. It's the building that Todd P's Sweat Shop is in. For all I know he could be pantsless too, but alls I can see is from the waist up. He’s slender and fit; from here I can tell he has a beard and some chest and belly hair (dark brown), though his back appears bare. He’s tan, as if he’s been making good use of the beach (or maybe just that roof) this summer. The pacing has a deliberative tone. He keeps raising his hand up to his beard and I imagine he is stroking it thoughtfully. Every so often he mixes it up with a hair tousle. He’ll come to a stop at the edge, put his hands on it and lean for a moment, then continue the pacing. A few times he came to a stop facing my direction, and I wondered if he could see me, in my kitchen, seeing him. I can’t guess how long he was up there before I noticed his presence, but now he’s gone back down to face whatever demon he’s been contemplating.

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