“You can’t possibly capture it. At its core there is a green ember that kind of whispers this soft light over everything inside. Beautiful. You can’t see it unless you’ve cut into the thing,” He pauses and looks off into the memory as if it were hidden amongst the crowd in front of us, “It’s truly remarkable, but then the thing starts to die, so you know, checks and balances,” He takes a drag off his cigarette.

I lean in closer, hoping to put some emphasis in my contribution, to show I am committed to the conversation now. I say something ineffectual. That’s my ‘thing’. He gets up and walks away, casting the cigarette against the ground where it shatters into sparks. I really didn’t want to capture it anyway. I’m not sure why he started with that, I was just curious about them. I clutch my belongings to my chest. Squeezing the hastily packed sack dispels some of the anxiety that is creeping in.