Early morning. Not much traffic on the roads yet. The night life in all its glory is thriving.

It’s that part of Vancouver where the speed limit is 30 instead of 50, so you can drink in the view with your eyes.

I get red light after red light after red light. It’s not my day and the sun isn’t event up yet. Out my window a glimmer or reflection of some sort catches my eye. It’s tinfoil. Lots and lots of tinfoil. At first glance it looked like an emergency blanket. But it wasn’t. All that tinfoil bunched up in misshapen balls on the sidewalk. It’s a mess. But a shiny mess. So, there’s that.

A man in many layers of dirty clothes turns around abruptly. He’s holding a big bunch of tinfoil in his hands. It’s partially unrolled and partially bunched up.

He frantically works his hands to make it into a ball, or close to. He squeezes it really hard and then holds it up with two hands, he pauses there for a few seconds like this some kind of offering or sacrifice to a deity I’m unaware of.

Maybe it’s the opening scene of The Lion King now that I think of it.

He smashes the lump onto the pavement and looks up at people on the sidewalk. Nope, definitely not The Lion King. They move away from him, he keeps staring.

Jesus Christ, I wonder, how much does all that god damned foil cost?