Welcome to Miami Beach. For the most part we all ignore each other and do our own thing, and I'm learning that is the unspoken rule of sunrise in bum culture.
Occasionally a random drunk stumbles to the sand and passes out on the shore (amateur). The sand grater drives around him in the tractor and life goes on.
This morning when I came downstairs to do my thing, I noticed a yogi on my turf who's morning practice was so interesting, I couldn't tune in to the Bhagavan Das I was blasting into my skull.
I'm still not certain if this guy was having a seizure or practicing some advanced form of Kundalini. Was he a homeless crazy or a wandering mystic? Maybe both.
