Early evening, night is just starting to fall. There's a light rain, more than a drizzle, less than a downpour. Downtown, at an intersection. A black man, mid-30's, wearing blue jeans, work boots, a brown jacket zipped up, arrives just as the light is turning yellow. He's going to have to wait until the light cycles back through to green, but he doesn't seem agitated. He's carrying his young son on his shoulders. The little boy is about four years old. He has a big puffy jacket on. The little boy holds a large square piece of cardboard over his head, keeping the rain off him and his father. The boy is talking animatedly. The father cocks his head slightly upward, in the boy's direction, giving him his full attention.
"Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe" ~ Neil Gaiman (A Game of You)