It was as if she and the sun had been going for a walk, the lilac bushes near the cafe beginning to bloom, behind the fogged glass the regular customers lined up for coffee, the garbage trucks groaning from within the depths of the neighborhoods, the traffic making the damp streets sing, the sun leaning in to murmur in her ear as with each step, as the morning began and the sun continued to climb, her confidence soared.
His daily life-experience was best described by a persistent thought which tried to filter its way through his head as he walked along Michigan Avenue, how each car in this morning's rush hour seemed to flow directly into him and disappear within the dark, echoing forests of his past instead of harmlessly passing by him, as if he were a portal from which nothing ever returned, though the image of every object hovered before his face, in his wide line of vision, as if on the event horizon of a massive black hole, making it difficult for him to see what was coming and where he was going.
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