Early this morning I left home and went to the coffee shop where I sat, drank tea and wrote. I left several hours later. It’s a late summer Vancouver day, sunny, breezy and noisy.

I came out of the coffee shop where they were playing pop, past another coffee shop where they tend to play jazz and blues, around the corner and up the road (somebody’s car was piping Eminem as it went by); I came here for lunch – where the staff is into Ugly Duckling and Ravi Shankar. Walking in Vancouver is like swimming in sound, or more accurately, sound which is really the smoking breath of human worlds slapping up against each other along the street.
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