With every introduction

The walk to the store spurs no birds to tweeting

The Old Boy sits on a high bench on a low roof, next to a gargantuan ant.

Good afternoon, good evening, and good night.  (Includes audio)

A warm, humid night, the witching hour nigh, the Old Boy plods into a train station. 

The sun’s wrath has spiked, magma flares planted within the black asphalt. And I’ve come to talk to the sea.  (Audio Included)

When my eyes shut I get to see.

In perfection, a day abstract, without clouds, dirt, confusion. 

The train is now arriving. Please let passengers exit first.

Falling or flying, I can’t tell which.