Apartment 201B, 2005
Except for a straggler getting off to work late, it's unusually quiet. I have an errand to run for a friend. I walk down the driveway and take the stairs to the second level. At the landing I follow the walkway to the middle apartment overlooking the parking area. Judging from the lone car occupying the carport below, the out-of-state license plates and road grime says it's a new arrival. I knock on apartment 201B and hear a muffled shuffle from inside. It stops abruptly. No one comes to the door. I knock again...its quiet. I haven't been back.

Big Tent, 2005
I have a curiosity about large tents. Yes, as a child I did go to the circus held under 'the big top'. Mostly I remember a sweltering atmosphere smelling of straw and animal dung. The performers seemed to be unusually 'up' for people who travelled in trucks from city to city and slept in trailers surrounded by blinking lights and children up past their bedtime. Still, the tent was the very symbol of exotic living.

Nowdays tents are bright white and made of shiny vinyl material instead of musty canvas. Where once the only thing a tent meant was that the circus was in town, it now functions as an all-purpose portible venue. What happens under the tent is unknown unless you've been invited--invititations are rare. Being in the tent is one thing--standing alongside a tent can be satifying in its own way.