It was a truly gorgeous Saturday morning in Washington, D.C., and as the day wore on the sky would be veined with the rainbow collisions of clouds and light against blue. By 7 a.m., homeless men sat on the steps below the blunt-tipped, somehow incomplete statue in front of Union Station, debating the relative virtues of various hustles. By 8 a.m., a spinning zoetrope of … Continue reading Season of the Clown by David Z. Morris