I can see how people get inspired to create things. I was on the train, listening to Explosions in the Sky and reading what I think is my new favorite book of poetry. After Glen Park station I looked out the window and the trees we were passing made the streetlights twinkle. And I saw that same block of sloped houses I've begun to recognize -- a sign I'm taking too many trips to the airport, I suppose. And then "Your Hand in Mine" ended, and "Memorial" began again.