I love biking home

I find more singular moments of beauty and magic. For example, the guy in line behind me at the 7-11 who HAD TO BUY a 24-pack of Busch and a 2-liter of Hawaiian Punch at 12:40 on a Wednesday night. Which, okay, is not really "beautiful," per se, nor is it "magical." I mean, it could be magical. But it is kind of awesome. I really hope he mixed them.

But back to the more sublime:

A pristine white school gymnasium ceiling lit up magnificently in a dark and sleeping neighborhood.

The shaggy, gray-haired drunk walking past the Philadelphia Church who paused in the middle of the sidewalk, spread his legs and raised his arms in a batter's stance, and waited for an imaginary pitch. It came and he hit it, then stood and watched it soar as I whirred past. The unseen witness.

I think all these things are just as present all day long in a city - they just fling themselves at you all at once, all the time. At night they slow down. You can stop and look and marvel at each one as it slowly passes you, or you slowly pass it. Depending on if you're the one on the bike.

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