After lunchtime I sat awhile with a couple of men in their forties, Sam and Randolph, roommates in an entirely tar-paper-encased shack with a strong list to the east. Nailheads fixing the faded black paper to the roof and walls had rusted. Reddish stains descended tapering and irregular like icicles or stalactites from each of many nails staggered all over the structure. I made a quick note in my pocket sketchbook to paint that charcoal-and-umber abstract someday.
