Photo Source: Flickr January 19, my birthday I create a midnight poetry reading. I litter the city with flyers, yellow, pink and light blue, the colors of baby’s breath, reassuring, comforting colors, but in the end I am the only one attending. The wooden folding chairs from the thirties that the county bought for audiences after a stage was added to the back of the one-room schoolhouse seem to ask: Where are the children? Where is the audience? Why are you sitting in the dark...