It’s Wednesday, February 10th and I’m at the bus stop early. The 311 doesn’t arrive for 15 minutes yet. This is the kind of morning that mysteries are made of. Ya know ….. “It was a gloomy night ……”

Standing in the dark, light rain falling, traffic zooming by, and their drivers did not seem to care that I’m there all alone. Maybe glad that they are safe in their cars? Even though I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself, I did feel a little vulnerable standing there all alone. After all, on any other day I would have been one of those drivers, safe in that mobile iron box.  Read the full article...