During the day, Dupont Circle, the park after which my neighborhood is named, is crowded with people, as in this post from Sarah last winter. The homeless congregate there, tourists stop to rest, office workers read on their lunch breaks, the competitive play chess … Generally it’s bustling. And sometimes that’s true on summer evenings as well.
Tonight, though, it was empty. Clouds had darkened the sky all night, and although the humidity had kept the afternoon temperate, folks generally had a feeling of wanting to be cozy and inside tonight.
The Circle was mostly deserted when I crossed through just before seven. A few people sat at the periphery. The homeless congregated by twos or threes or wandered alone, hoping to pick up a few bucks.
During the day, the residents of Dupont Circle surrender the park temporarily to others. At night, though, we reclaim what is ours. The Dupont Circle Guerrilla Poetry Society took credit for the chalkings.
Behind me, a girl was on the phone. “No, we broke up,” she told a friend. “Yes, really.” She paused. “Well, except for last night, when we totally made out.” I doubt she noticed the chalk drawings we were walking over.
The hearts were followed, like chalk Burma Shave ads, by a message: “Go. Ahead. Call. Him.”
I think these folks would approve…
Hillary posted a My D.C. collage as well today.