Hidden in plain sight.

Make your way down the streets that lead to Broadway, and at the same times of the day, you'll see them. Different faces, different stories, different names, but all part of the same sort of brotherhood, if you will. Walking with long strides, content to be outside... content to be moving somewhere. The baggy pant - sometimes solid, sometimes striped, a t-shirt that's been hidden most of the day by the double breasted coat draped over their arm or folded just beneath. The brow a bit more furrowed when on the way to work, from the bus or the commuter parking lot or the ride, cause the parking doesn't come cheap. The demeanor,usually a bit more at ease on their way home from another day...

They were always there before, and I'm sure they'll be there tomorrow and the day after that. Maybe it's just that I fell in love with one, that I see them... the cooks in this music city that loves its food, working to make a living... Working to make a name... Working to make something good... Working, just the same. In bistros, upscale, dive bars, corporate, private owned... in a closed kitchen or open kitchen... hidden in plain sight.