Today’s soundtrack: promises, promises, I do
Today at 3:02pm: Buying pignoli cookies.


More than anything they move through the streets like a silver fish. Openings present themselves, then narrow just as quickly; the fish darts through and ahead.

The yellow fish are by far the least considerate. They lumber and shift with a drunken inaccuracy that begs for them to be overtaken. They are quickly gained on and left behind.

The large blue-and-white fish are not to be trifled with. Impassively huge, they can do whatever they want. Stopping sporadically to feed and excrete, straddling more than their fair share of the space alotted, no one can displace them.

Then there are the white fish with red markings. Most fish dare not pass them; none will cut them off. These fish are the kings.

The silver fish comes to rest, cargo is unloaded. Then it’s back to the grotto where the silver fish sleeps amongst others of its kind, fish of all colors, neatly stacked far underground.