Now Is The Discontent of Our Winter

The fountains at Meridian Hill Park have dried. The jagged outline of a whiskey bottle looms atop the mudded concrete. Look deeper. There's also some plasticware in there.

18th & Columbia sleeps. The HipDonalds' speakers have been silenced. The music is gone ... perhaps forever.

Within the Apple store, an army of red-shirted employees buzzes between the sleek electronics and electronics accessories. They form a 1:1 ratio to consumers. Maybe they can help you find something for your dad. He's always hard to shop for.

It is Winter.

I could have used that whiskey.