As I drove down Hampton, towards my house, I had to stop at the red light at Colonial. That intersection teems with various kinds of people that swim in the this endlessly liquid world. But yesterday, I saw a man walking with purpose. He seemed to impact the ground with every step he took, but he wasn’t stomping. His knee pivoted like a machine, and his foot rested just where it ought to in relation to the gum ridden sidewalk. He was black - like the night, and I couldn’t see his eyes for the dark sunglasses he wore. They were older fashion, defiantly thrift store. A too-big shirt and too-big pants didn’t hide his shoes. They were the kind of non-skid shoes that servers wear a restaurants. Black, flat, devoid of fashion and laces.. But what struck me as interesting and quite telling was the rhythm with which he moved, as if compelled by some earthly beat, and the fact that he was wearing headphones. As he stepped off of the curb to pass in front of my car, I saw the naked end of his headphones. It sparkled, like a jewel. He wasn’t plugged into anything except the music in his mind.

I don’t know where he was headed, or why, but he left me with a feeling that nothings impossible, if you just keep to the beat.