I just started reading "Winslow in Love" by Kevin Canty. I started it at Starbucks where I was walking to when I took the picture I posted earlier. It was raining and when I walked into the shop Starbucks was hushed. I ordered my coffee. Every table was taken. A man who was drawing in a journal motioned to me. He was making a very detailed drawing of Satan and he offered me a seat at his table. I figured he was not going to want to engage in idle conversation and I thought to myself, "I wish I had his kind of time." He never said a word to me. I opened my book for the first time. The first sentence of the book starts like this "The rain fell on downtown Portland, not in any kind of usual way..." It got me on the first sentence.