There’s an intersection two blocks from my apartment where I find myself frequently. It’s at the end of Adams Morgan, or the beginning, depending on where you’re coming from. I find myself there often because of the magic stoplight. No matter where I’m coming from or where I’m going, what time or day or night, the crosswalk light is always, always, always red. And I mean recently red. It always turns red just before I arrive, as if my very own toeprints flip a trigger. For thirty to sixty seconds, at the corner of 18th and Columbia, I’m forced to stop, stretch, look up, look around.
Home is a place you don’t choose until you do
Home is a place you don’t choose until you do
Home is a place you don’t choose until you do
There’s an intersection two blocks from my apartment where I find myself frequently. It’s at the end of Adams Morgan, or the beginning, depending on where you’re coming from. I find myself there often because of the magic stoplight. No matter where I’m coming from or where I’m going, what time or day or night, the crosswalk light is always, always, always red. And I mean recently red. It always turns red just before I arrive, as if my very own toeprints flip a trigger. For thirty to sixty seconds, at the corner of 18th and Columbia, I’m forced to stop, stretch, look up, look around.