Evening ride on the Minuteman in the drizzle or mist or whatever that damp stuff was, grey light diffused by it and everything just a bit soft-focus, a little blurred and caught between two worlds. A little smokey pack of teenagers seemed to be working diligently on getting a little blurred when I rode past them on one of the Arlington bridges on the outbound leg. On the return, they (or others of their cohort) had moved down to the darkened AHS athletic field, where they were hooting, hollering, carrying on, and having a high old time.


rod