This is my city, these are the things I see. I share them now, that I am able, that I am here. When I am gone, these things I've shared might be a memorial, for my friends, for family, for anyone. And one might say, these things are nothing, they are objects that many see each and every day, exclusive to none; I would beg to differ..., for one might consider, the innumerable sides of one simple vision, the immeasurable truth in all things seen. If only I back away from the sphere of my own reality, I might share your vision, and perhaps you might do the same. Our world might then be better. And perhaps these things are not even worth considering, perhaps we should live heads down, pushing on, for there are dollars to be earned, ladders to climb, fellows to trample, belts to notch, hearts to break; perhaps there is no value in our own back yard, but that we would travel so we might say we have. Perhaps there is no value in the glance of a neighbor or the hand of a friend, and perhaps we should whittle our way to the end . . . and perhaps we shall, one way or the other, but for me, I say, embrace one another - and I will be your fool; I will put the words with my heart out for one and all, and say dance upon them as you may, but I am still here, today, and when I am not, dance once again, . . . perhaps I'll be joining you.