ABSTRACT
He stands on the corner of Kinsley Avenue and Route 66 in downtown Winslow, Arizona like he’s waiting for something to happen. A seemingly laidback dude, he stands motionless. He’s no cowboy, but he wears a vest like a California hippie might have sported in the 1970s, suggesting the authentic southwest wrangler, free-spirit type from the big screen westerns. An acoustic guitar balances on the toe of his bronze boot. The streets are mostly quiet as the hot Arizona sun arcs the sky. Like the gnomon of a sundial, his shadow tracks the day’s hours across the sidewalk. Frankly, it’s not clear if he’s coming or going, and maybe it’s neither. A sign on the lamppost above him, simply reads, “Standin’ On The Corner,” and the whole scene seems to betray Winslow’s chamber of commerce claim as “A City in Motion.”
