Today, on the corner in Chinatown where my ears are often assaulted by the paranoid ranting of one our more creative DC-area hate groups, there was a single person, armed with a laptop connected to an amplifier, blaring dance hall tunes.
Dancing with abandon.
Some people stopped, watched, laughed. Others passed by, head down.
I did some mix of the two, and smiled.
I don't know who you are. Keep dancing, please.