It's an alleyway not a street. Looking down towards Wharf Street from above on Fore Street, we see shadows, fire escapes and lots of bricks. It's early morning in the city. Not many inhabitants are stirring. It's a Sunday, that day of rest. The sun is pretty active, a few stray cats too, but that's about it for now. To be alone is a nice place to be. Now, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not a loner. I'm not a hermit. I don't think I'd do very well in solitary confinement. However, my sister did dub my third floor bedroom growing up, with the orange, batik curtain covering the window, the monastery. I know what you're thinking. I will pass this along right away... she never heard any monastic chants coming from above her room.