Quakers were protesting the war outside the old Federal Building while old ladies and podgy businessmen sat at small tables in enduring cafes in Little Saigon. I scurried down Polk Street, passing a sign: Character, like a photo, develops in a dark place. It was then I ran into Bruce – who I have known for a long time but who I don’t know at all. Architecture affects up more profoundly than we might think, he stated, and referenced a book he had just read: The Architecture of Happiness. Nearby the Fox Plaza Building lunged at me reminding me of hardened stomachs, cancer, broken feet, germs, viruses and other monsters that lurk in the shadows waiting to attack me when I am again weak. Oh, thank goodness for people who don’t speak our language but try and make us laugh. Thank goodness for comfortable beds. (jah may 4, 2007)