Walking through the Commons after class, I saw three figures crouched around a fire on the stairs of the Park Street fountain. Dark flame danced, drawing the shadow around its circle into a dense haze. I heard them talking long before I could make out their features, but had no comprehension of what they were saying. One poked at the flame, teasing it, as if to conjure its next illusion. As I moved closer to them, their features became clearer. Three Aboriginal elders they were, older perhaps than anyone I have met. As if sensing my presence, they broke off their conversation and looked up at me. Under their gaze, I slowed and turned my eyes upward, following the lines made by the bundles of spears each held. Above them stood an angelic being bearing a sword and extending an empty hand. The elders began to laugh and were gone.

Three alterna-teens were crouched around a fire on the stairs of the Park Street fountain. The same dark flame danced, but I could see through the shadow. I heard them but still could not understand what they were saying. Above them, only the fountain remained. I continued on until I reached the safety of the trains.