Having being somewhat unceremoniously ejected from the coffee shops earlier in the day, Anna had spent much of the afternoon and early evening sulking over her predicament. How the motherfuck was she supposed to communicate with her colleagues, her family and her friends, without access to the official coffee shops?

Sat miserably on a bench in the park, hood pulled over her head to try to hide her face a little better, and to keep the light drizzle from her hair, she'd kicked an empty glass coke bottle between her feet for an hour or so. Then she'd switched location, making a brief stop at the local bakery, buying a fresh loaf and breaking it up, throwing it idly into an area of the river inhabited by ducks. Feeding the ducks was something she'd enjoyed doing as a child, and she felt as though with every piece of bread she threw into the water, soon to be devoured by a hungry duck, that more clarity was coming to her mind.

Splash!

A piece of bread hit the water. 'Well, there are other ways of communicating.', she thought.

Splash!

Another, set upon quickly by two mallards, scuffling over it until it broke in half.

'Maybe if the coffee shops are closed to me, for the most part, for a little while, I can communicate more by speaking.'

Splash!

This piece, she'd aimed more carefully. A duck, a little way away from the rest, was swimming sadly, dejectedly. She was smaller than the others, her eyes somehow sad. This was a duck who'd known pain. Ripping off a large chunk, she'd thrown the bread towards her, hoping to get it close enough for the young duck to eat before the big, angry looking geese across the water spotted it and came over, sure to beat the small duck away.

Watching more intently than she typically would, she saw with some happiness that, although the geese, large and hissing, had spotted the vulnerable little duck all alone and weak, with her big bit of bread, the duck had managed to outsmart them, taking the bread in her mouth and hiding in the reeds beside the river. There was something poetic about how the little duck had saved her bread with this initiative.

Breaking up the last of the bread, Anna throws it into the river and turns and walks away, the idea of opportunity and initiative still fresh in her mind.

Returning to her bench, she sits and ponders this.

Eventually, it hits her. This partial banishment from the coffee shops - this was her opportunity. Heading to the streets surrounding the park, smiling slightly now, she begins to make her announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen.

As some of you will undoubtedly know, and as some of you may not know, earlier today, I was removed from the coffee shops. I'm unsure when - or indeed if - my return can be expected.

Because, I'm gonna try something new.

Since my line was new here, I've been reliant on the coffee shops for, well... everything. I can honestly say that if it weren't for the time put in in the coffee shops, my line probably wouldn't ever have held the positions we have. Sure, the last few ancestors of mine have steadily become more vocal out here on the streets, and that's great. But surely... surely there is more that I can say, out here? Surely there are so many words that I speak in the coffee shops on a daily basis that should be spoken out here on our streets, that merit more discussion than they get?

So, here's what I'm gonna try. I'm gonna try, for the time I'm disallowed from the coffee shops, and maybe even beyond if I find it an effective primary means of communication, to utilize the streets in more intelligent ways than I perhaps have so far. I'm going to try to turn this into something positive, into something fun, into something interesting.

Yes, I will still pop into some of the older and less known coffee shops on the other side of town, because I have business outside of this world to attend to there, so I will still be reachable there, but for the most part - I'd like for this and for mob mail to be it. I want to see how it goes.

And here is where you all come in, here is where I ask for your support. Work with me here guys.

A chatty little shit like me? Not being in the coffee shops is going to feel like hell. I'm not going to ask you to undertake this challenge with me - Lord knows, I doubt I would've volunteered for it, but I am going to ask that we try to think more about where we speak. Does what we are about to say have to be said from the comfort of the coffee shops, or can we say it from the soapbox instead?

I can't help but thinking that an over reliance on the coffee shops acts kind of like a set of training wheels for us as mafiosi - well, I'm taking them off, and I'm seeing if I can stay upright.

With a smile, Anna slinks back into the shadows a little, waiting to see who might be brave enough to join her in this change of style.

Walking briskly down the sidewalk covering his face from the frigid air with his lapel, Ronald sees Anna engaging another group of mafiosi near a park bench. She sounds a bit riled up. His face, pink from the sting of the wind, lights up when he realizes she's talking about something he's passionate about: preserving the culture of the streets.

I think this is an excellent choice Anna.

As a medium, the streets act like a funnel to concentrate your ideas down to their most potent form. It really forces you to choose your wording carefully and to make sure you have your opinion fully fleshed out.

Effective street speaking is an art; a good speaker can elicit emotions and manipulate minds. Even unpopular ideas can be pushed onto people through the power of persuasion. The cliche "the pen is mightier than the sword" is embedded into our culture for a reason. A carefully crafted group of words can indeed be wielded as a weapon. Entire wars have been sparked by the stroke of a pen, as our friend Kuku has shown in the story of his bloodline.

I've already made it pretty public that I place a lot of value on street presence. I believe a good, old-fashioned street speech adds a certain classical element... a sort of panache to this thing we all live and die by. It pays proper to the formal and ceremonial nature of our tradition.

I have always enjoyed your opinions out here Anna. I'm excited to see what come up now that you are dedicating more energy to this sphere of influence. I am always happy to lend an ear or an opinion.

Anna smiles at Ronald.

Thank you for your support in this venture, sir. It's truly appreciated; I do feel that without any support, I might start to lose some of my steam with this.

As you stated with the example of Kuku, the pen can indeed me mightier than the sword and I'm personally hoping that one of the outcomes of this decision is that I can seek to become a better, more effective and more interesting speaker for it.

I have to agree with your words on street presence. It seems to remind us more of our place in a time where the speeches of a politician can make or break them; I think the same with the mob. I'm exciting to put myself in a "make or break" situation here, and hopefully make the best of myself in the process.

I'm glad you've enjoyed what I've brought to the streets already, my friend; certainly I'll be trying to ensure that your excitement is not in vain. Hopefully we'll talk a little more out here over the next few weeks.

Trying to make the best of a bad situation here, Squishy. Like I said, I was removed from the coffee shops, I don't know when I'll return, because if I get into doing things this way, I'll probably stay off for longer.

Since I sound like a hackzoring maniac now, and I'm really not smart enough for that, I'll make the decision here and now to clarify what happened.

Somebody posted their password in #divinelunacy. I did not attempt to log on to or change anything about his account, I ghosted it, once. I didn't steal it, I didn't log into it, I didn't change anything about it. It was probably immature to ghost it, but it was meant in good humor rather than to do harm, or to take advantage.