The Occasioned Solitude
December 5th: Arturo Fuente slowly burned . . .
Coldness blanketed the night with a determination that patiently crept into the tips of toes and of fingers.
The holiday glow of suburbia betrayed the darkness of the night casting dancing hues of violet, white, and gray into the street.
A solitary bat wildly hunted darting between the shifting shadows.
The Occasion ignited.
Arturo stood boldly against the night. Cameroonian and Dominican tones blended in a heated earthiness against the intention of the night. Inflamed, engulfed, contradicting the regulated, the enslaved, the uniformed. Arturo, a blaze in revolution, on this night, would save the world.
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