Fidelity is a matter of perception; nobody is unfaithful to the sea or to mountains or to death: once recognized they fill the heart.
Securely paper-clipped to a wire fence in a tiny waterfront park overlooking a lot of slimy dark rocks and the city lights across the river, Grand St. and Kent Ave., Brooklyn, New York, 10 pm.
(The correct size paper was unavailable on short notice, so, U.S. letter-size trimmed down to correct proportions...)
It was awfully cold. Then I went home and had some whisky and drew comic books.