A series of wooden park benches face the water. It's an odd place to stop and sit, because there is a tense shiftiness to the surroundings. An interweaving of disparate events makes for a displacing event in itself: the peeling grain silos that loom in the near distance, the elevated expressway, the brown canal underneath, pedestrian and bike paths that morph into and out of short bridges over slow waters. A small band of youth loiter around one of the benches.