The other day, I felt compelled to provide reports on what I saw and kept calling the answering machine at my house and leaving messages. I saw that the color of Japanese maple leaves that had been left on the sidewalk before being swept away had left tiny brown silhouettes of their shapes. In the dusk the sodium lights cast shadows of the trees over the sidewalk so that it looked like shadows of the naked trees still had their leaves. I reported on two middle-aged women each carrying a take-out bag from the Hooters on South Lake Union. It didn’t occur to me that the place might be frequented by dinners actually looking for food. I had assumed it was frequented exclusively by creepy middle-aged men with Mick Jagger hair dos. I had also assumed that like other theme restaurants, such as the Rainforest Café, that the food was not of sufficient quality to warrant carrying it off the premises. Mid-way through this report the machine filled and shortly after that Lisa erased the contents of the machine since the majority of the messages were of her father calling at nine o’clock asking her if she was still asleep.