The roar of the win. The exo­dus of happy fans con­sum­ing the entirety of blocked-off streets. The stac­cato strobes of five police cruis­ers at every inter­sec­tion. The scream­ing packs of girls from Sim­mons and Emmanuel, parad­ing down Brook­line to par­take of the fes­tiv­i­ties. The invis­i­ble energy buzzing from satel­lite news vans parked bumper-to-bumper down Van Ness Street. The prac­ticed call-and-response of car horns in the street and cheer­ing groups on the side­walks. Vic­tory is in the air. The neigh­bor­hood is electrified.

Back from my walk, I’ve soaked up all I can. Alex, sequestered in his room, dis­in­ter­ested in sports, turns his techno up so loud that it masks out the crowd and the heli­copters and my own thoughts.

(Self-portrait spon­sored by O2Cam.)