After taking a photograph of the empty lightrail tracks, Greg sets up a shot to catch the blur of a passing train.  Sitting quietly, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me.  A man stands there, almost as if to wait for me to acknowledge his presence.  I break the silence by asking  him how he is doing.  “I’m just looking for a quiet place to fall asleep.”  I tell him about the parking garage we just came from, and that there were a few dry stairwells where he might find refuge for the night.  I ask him for a portrait, “Maybe if you gimme a couple bucks for a coffee.”  I realize I have no cash, and am frustrated that I didn’t think to bring some ones for such opportunities.  I tell him, and he says nothing, turns around and walks towards the garage.