Colin Finlay + Hearts Road

I’m back on the blvd. now, with the people that wear their pain. The man coming up over my left shoulder is screaming as he walks. I’m screaming inside. I walked the blvd. for over three years and hardly…

It’s a funny thing, but I notice dogs look at me more than people do. Big brown pedigreed ones in the front seats of their air-conditioned Range Rovers. Street dogs, gardener’s dogs, little old lady dogs.    

A beautiful…

The crush of night is upon me, the time when adrenaline expressed as anxiety or panic runs through me. When it’s at its best. Restless I dress, and drift back down to the blvd. From a distance, in silhouette, intermittently…

It’s about 10 PM at the Hollywood Royale Rest Home, the one on the corner of Beachwood and Franklin Ave. It sits right across from the La Mirage Motel where recovered addicts are born, but I don’t think many…

So this is where I live, just off the blvd. I live here because it affirms I’m alive. My days of running, those spent chasing stories around the world are over. My past has now caught up with me…

The little old man with the neck goiter was an exceptional human being. Now I’ve put some miles in around this world, probably two million and his was the second largest goiter I have ever seen. It was the…

A woman, mid thirties, slender, dishwater blonde, somehow decides to tie her little black and white Basenji up next to the returned, loquacious leper of a man Herman. A braless shiny, who should not be braless, looks down at him…

And he began..."I never did lose my way. Never. Even though it was dark. Even though it happened a long time ago. I always kept at least three bucks in my pocket. It’s what I had available you know?…

It’s about what people get reduced to in the midst of the dream. The broken, those fragile moments; the collective consciousness of agony, of hunger, that brings them all down to the blvd. They bring the carcass that is their…

The “Greativeness of Sharon” is etched into what was once a partially dry sidewalk. By the looks of it, a gentleman committed a pen to his effort. Dirt, tiny pellets of rubber and dried bits of street weeds, the…

A little girl, maybe three, I’m not good with kid’s ages never having had one. Well, never having raised one walks by the money shaker. She pulls at her mother’s hand, taking the best of a long look. Ribbons…

I hit the streets early today going against the natural rhythm. Only people with jobs, places to go, are out early while most of us are still in our beds, but I get lucky and I catch one. I’ve…