Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I consider myself a natural water creature despite being unable to swim (biggest irony, I know). However, I gravitate toward water for calm, peace and serenity. I am also a proud Philadelphian who had never been to Logan Circle. Feeling a little ashamed, I took a trip seeking refuge on one of the hotter days of early October. Midterms were stressful and I thought a little light sunbathing might do the mind and body good. Unsurprisingly, I was not alone. There were varying clusters of other people basking in the shadows and mists of the fountain. Some looked like they had purpose while others seemed to just drift on the sand covered ground on some unknown and mysterious journey. Yet others enjoyed the benches that were placed in a circle formation surrounding the three mystical creatures of the fountain. It felt as if the fountain was the main source of entertainment and I was forced to be a spectator, a silent observer.

    On one edge of the fountain there was a cute boy around the age of 4 trying to catch the water as it dropped near his shoe on the fountain’s edge. His mother laughed as the boy giggled and tried to put his shoed foot flat into the water. By contrast, two college students were having a very serious conversation on one of the nearby benches. When walking by, I heard the older student scold the younger about her weekly party habits, which quite frankly, sounded like a good time to me. As I continued to walk around the fountain, I noticed a homeless person sleeping on another bench. Dressed in dark clothing, he appeared to be hiding from the sun under an umbrella he propped open. But maybe he was hiding in general. It seemed to work because no one noticed or even cared about his presence. The old man two benches away from him appeared to have no responsibility at all. He was sitting, eyes closed with his pink hands folded neatly across his oversized, sun burned belly. His expression was odd. It was some combination of sternness, content and contemplation. I assume there were miles of thoughts flashing behind his closed eyes foregrounded by the sound of the running fountain.

    I must admit that I found myself in deep contemplation as well. Why was that man with the long locs walking through the circle so fast? Is there really a rush on a Friday?... Where is the tourist couple from? Great camera. Nikon D600? D3100?... I wonder what school that student with the laptop goes to? Is it even safe to have a laptop out in the open in an area like this?... So many pigeons!...I’m not sure this is the quietest place for a bum to sleep with the traffic whizzing by. Maybe he’s using the cityscape as background noise, a private orchestra…

    My thoughts seemed to trickle steadily like a stream, straight from the frog’s mouth.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.