I come out of the studio and onto the streets where I unlock my bike from the bike rack.  It's late in the evening and everything is dark and desolate.  The only sense of movement is the shimmer of reflected street lighting in puddles after a massive downpour.  The only sound I can hear is the crackling static coming from a little portable radio that a man sitting on a nearby street bench is holding in his hand.  The radio bandwidth is out of frequency and shifts between a female operatic voice to a discussion between two people and then to a football match.  I ride off into the distance, but the camera stays with the man on the bench.  He continues to look downward, occasionally taking a sip from a bottle of beer, and thinking intently.  The richly textured sound of static continues.