This is a picture I did not take

of a young woman in an orange t-shirt and jeans, standing on a corner in the midday heat of Atlanta, minutes after a rainstorm had blown through town; while waiting on the corner for the light to change, she pulled out a cigarette and lighter, and just as she struck the lighter and pulled the flame close, a Mustang cut the corner at high speed, splashing a large puddle of rain that had gathered there, and the oily water rose up and seemed to hang in the air (this is the 125th of a second I'm talking about) suspended right in front of her and that flame, and her cigarette , and the unsullied orange of her t-shirt, before the splash doused the first, soaked the second, and insulted her shirt and jeans, while the Mustang revved-off toward the next stop light, oblivious.