I talk about dark things sometimes, and it may seem I’m dwelling in darkness. There is safety hiding in the shadows. I’ve retreated there many nights. Leaning against a wall in an alley, hidden but able to see out, watch others. Like a parade of lives, they go by; a man with his arm tightly around the waist of a woman, she slips her arm around him and they walk in unison stealing kisses under the street lamp; a group saunters by in long black leather coats flapping like stiff Batman capes, they talk in deep tones, laugh, marking territory with their presence; next an old man shuffles along, bent over with a weather-beaten dog stuck to his heels looking up now and again with love at his master. These lives speak to me. They are shards of things I want, things that repel me. I am absorbed in thinking which is which and then I see you, a light shining; a sun on a dark horizon stretching warmth out to me. You are an enigma yet all about you is the aura of sincerity I see no where else. You look my way and I see the way back. I cannot call you friend and yet the word comes to my mind.