Hipsterville

Day 38. Walking down a dawn-lit Brébeuf, I recall Liam Callaghan once confessed this time of the day to be his favourite. I always knee-jerked in my head, "not so much favourite as to actually wake up to see it, but favourite enough to drink until it came". I fear I am akin to him now, as I pause on the bench in front of Mr. Pinchot and loosen my shoes, home is merely across the street. I rise shakily and resume my quest for home. I duck behind the building having shirked the necessity of installing the building's front door keys on my now dwindling ring. I round the rear of the building to find 3 squirrels consuming our garbage. This is not a surprise, but surprise does in fact arise. I have not seen Cat, nor has he seen me. Our acquaintance finally coalesces and Cat, who had been lounging on the spiral stairs, darts outward, past the numerous squirrels, and makes for the street. The squirrels are seemingly less upset by my arrival than by Cat's. 

It is a curious notion that tame house Cat can be upset by my presence, yet feral Squirrel moves hardly at all. Mulling this over takes up a fair part of my thoughts as Cat sprints across the road and broadsides a mostly un-noticing Squirrel. A near wildlife tragedy if not for the fact that all involved seem too busy being surprised by me to be severely hurt. Every one now dispersed, I head up to the gallery to enjoy the beautiful dawn before I head to bed. Yes it was worth the staying up for: Dawn, drunk dawn.

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