It is a beautiful day. Sixty degrees, sunny, with a light southernly breeze, not at all the way winter is supposed to be. I stayed up to finish Captains Courageous last night and woke late this morning. After a shower and yogurt for breakfast, I spent the better half of an hour meditating. I slipped into it and was concentrating on anything in particular.
Last night I had a long walk about the city. I'm still a tad weary this afternoon, so I stroll gently up 15th St. to my destination this day. Half way to the cafe, I notice a quaint and some what removed office supply store a block to the south. Its northern wall is covered in still green ivy with a patch cut away for advertising the building's purpose. The barren patch was painted red and white, reading "Duke's Office Supply". This is a time capsule. The shelled out remains of a once prosperous store now sitting quietly on an obscure corner of an unnoticing town, hidden, nestled into a residential area likely created by the hard fought against crosscutting highway just to the east.
I peer at the building from across the street, jaw gapping slightly then turning to an inquisitive smirk. This place amazes me. "How can an office supply store survive like this?" I ask myself. Everything I've read about scale-free networks references cities and specifically businesses as one form. Yet, here this business stands completely physically isolated from other businesses. I shall look into this enigma again in the future.
I continue my stroll past Duke's enjoying the wonderful character of Cincinnatti Avenue. The grand old houses sitting fifteen feet above the street level; their porches extending out like walls around a fortress; two or three stories high, mostly square in stature with pleasantly sparsely gabled roofs. I continue walking. There is a batch of industrial style condominiums next to a giant green house-mountain. The condos tower like a granite cliff, but blend with the character of the street so that the structure is barely noticeable to the unobservant. I find myself intrigued with the boxy condos as I stroll along observing them from various perspectives.
Alas, I round the corner to get back on track with my intended plan of travel and find a Tulsa jewel, Maple Park. Cozying up against the highway's exit ramp, the park is strangely quite. I can see the back side of the boxy Cincinnatti St. condominiums - another perspective. The park is a natural hilltop meadow, lightly sprinkled with massive trees, overlooking downtown Tulsa. There isn't much to the park itself. It is mostly a brown stretch of peacefully open space (at least brown in the winter). I've found a bench to sit and wright on. The sun warms my face as I write, and the cool indian summer breeze makes certain I am comfortable.
