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Last night I stepped out of work at around 6:30 into some wicked wind and nasty 22 degree cold weather, and right away heard some music in the distance. I figured someone had a car stereo going a block away or something like that. As I walked out onto the street it got louder, and I looked up the completely deserted street to find an enterprising young child of the ghetto walking a snails pace with a Radio Raheem-sized box pumping Aretha Franklin. We usually see the same recurring characters in this neighborhood, like the guy who rides by on his bike and barks like a dog at us, or Leon with the bootlegs, or the scrap metal hustlers, or the kid who's been riding a stolen dirtbike for 4 months and we've seen outrun the cops twice, but this was my first glimpse of the soul addict who enjoys lazy walks in the cold. I hope he sticks around.
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