At night, when the palm trees begin to cast shadows and the city begins to reflect the vast disparities between affluence and adversity, Stevie’s sleepless mind can no longer dream, literally and figuratively.
Our Land turns particularly bleak at night; bicycles are stolen and dumpsters are torched. In the morning, users who sleep rough light spoons and burn up powders in front of little kids going to school.
My friend from Waffle House says if you stacked all the sausage patties they serve in one day, it would reach the top of the Empire State Building. I say, why bother?