It's up here, between bushes and bricks, that I've been able to see more clearly during this somewhat morning ritual of mine. Runners fly past, and I can tell. Some of them are running towards something - they have this vision in their eyes, hopes for something up ahead. Others, I can tell, are running from something. From the person they are, or were. I guess that's really how we all ended up here. One or the other. [Excerpt]
