Gray sky from top to bottom, people from the outside call it fog some call it smog, but it’s just a gray sky. Later in the day a spot of yellow may or may not appear suggesting something exists outside this dome of gray mist. There are days when the grey comes in close, where the universe is reduced to a bubble of visibility fifteen feet in all directions. It’s nice to be alone. But today the cars pass at full speed on the elevated freeway to the south. People in a hurry to be west of here, another group of people in just as big a hurry to be east, and I sit, without effort, at the spot they all pushed hard to reach. Confidence in the continued spin of the Earth, our track around the sun, and our hurtle from the center of the universe keeps me from being a vagrant.