Soft mist falls on lonely streets eager for feet. Cars, buses and bicycles run over cracked pavement deficient in human contact. Garden Street once held space for block parties where children ran through the freed waters of fire hydrants, while dogs barked and neighbors lit char-stained grills. Jon Green used to walk Top Avenue every day to gather his morning paper at the corner market. His 90 year old frame shuffled on legs heretofore adept with an athlete’s grace. Locals have said he was a legend in his youth, breaking every track record for miles around. Back then, these streets were his daily companions. Now they sit, melancholy for the rhythmic pulse of a runner’s tempo.