"Watch out!", screamed the old man in his wheelchair, one which had stopped suddenly in the middle of the crosswalk. He had no legs. And the tan sedan drove on, westward, into the extreme sunset. The female driver was blinded by the light of the sky fire. She had no clue how close she came to clipping Ol' Legless. "Fuckin' asshole!", he grumbled and continued wheeling across the street. The Van Man crossed paths with him and shook his head in astonishment. A bus rolled along, eastbound. "Crazy", proclaimed the bus driver, out of his lowered window. Seven in the evening. The Valley was alive and well.
Van Man crossed the street for a quick burger and coffee, before his rehearsal began. It was another show and he only had a few minutes. As he faced west, the fiery sunset blinded him. But he did not look away. Van Man stared into the fireball. The sight was awe-inspiring. He desired to become more present, more available to the full life experience. Whatever that meant. One day, the Grand Nothing would overtake. And everything he knew would cease to exist. So he owed something. He demanded more of himself, more connection. Awareness. Always listening, never blinking. Van Man looked down onto the sidewalk underneath him. And he saw Fuck. That most beautiful word. His favorite. The Van Man smiled and walked on to coffee.