Cracked Window

My periscope breaches the surface in Northeast Portland and takes in the outside world:

Larry the trash hauler introduces himself when he sees me photographing the Halloween decorations on his truck, which blocks my car on NE 11th Avenue. Until now we’ve been on a wave only basis. Larry poses for the camera and without prompting bemoans how his truck isn’t as gussied up for the holiday as it usually is. “Wait til Christmas,” he says. “You’ll see a big Santa instead of this little witch.

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Four street scenes all within fifty yards of NE 15th and Fremont, expose Portland’s big beating quirky heart:

The first to catch my eye in a thirty-second span is a hand-painted sign on a rickety weathered fence: We Love People. Another sign, this one on a post outside a Starbucks, had read: No Skate Boarding. Someone has erased the “N” and inked in “G.” Sauntering past is a young woman dressed as if winter’s arrived, down to a woolly hat with fluffy flaps and rabbit ears that are pink inside. The finale is a can collector pushing a grocery cart laden with the day’s haul. He belts out a soulful song, though his jolly mood appears artificially induced.

Despite the rain, my day suddenly looked brighter.