At Costello's Travel Cafe on Broadway, taking a break in my tattoo artist finding weekend (reality casting has followed me north). It's so very Portland outside and in, steady rain, people in fleece and waterproof jackets drinking coffee, reading books, talking knitting around a table full of colorful wool. A 20something guy in a newsboy hat and round wire spectacles is writing furiously in his journal.
A girl sits at a table by the window, backlit by the grey light outside. She sits motionless, her hands cupping her chin and appears to be simply watching the rain fall, and I'm reminded that sitting in a cafe, watching the rain is very important and something that is missing in my life lately. It seems something my poet guru Mary Oliver would approve.