One of my picks was an urban cowboy in a black leather cowboy hat, a paisley print red western shirt a crumpled box of Marlboros in his pocket and the fragrance of day old cigarette smoke clouding around him like Charlie Brown’s buddy Pigpen. The runner up was a large man traveling ...
“I’m not a violent person,” I said. She considered this for a long moment. A wisp of smoke from our neighbor’s cigarette reached our balcony. Alison coughed. Then she said: “I don’t think we ever know what we are, exactly. I think we’re always finding out.” ...