Viewed from space, the terminus is a sharply defined line, separating night from day, light from dark. This half of the earth has the Sun shining on it, this half does not.  Here on the surface, however, there is no sudden wall of blackness- it is a much more transitional, phasic shift.  We call these gradations "dawn" and "twilight".
I think the coffeeshop where I work, and this neighbourhood as a whole, is on the terminus between rich and poor, haves and have-nots, ghetto and glitz.  The demographic sample is . . .  highly varied, and that makes life interesting sometimes.   For the most part, everyone gets along fine.  I like to help some of the street people out, let them use our washrooms without purchase- I know how much of an inconvenience not having ready access to facilities is.  Sometimes, though, there are clashes, and we have to ask people to leave.
Today I went in to work to collect my paycheck, so I wasn't actually on shift, and the ladies working were a little concerned about one of the guys outside bothering customers- he was drunk and asking for money, but not very nicely, judging by his invasion of their space.  So I thought it would be best if I went out there to see if I could do something about it.
He was a native guy, quite drunk and hard to understand, and I said, "You know you're not allowed to panhandle here- you're welcome to sit down and have a coffee but you can't bother the customers."
So we argued for a bit, but I was pretty intent on getting him to leave the premises.  At one point he mentioned that he had "killed men for less" and then we had to have a staredown, which is rarely a good situation.  I kind of thought I might be getting into a fight- bad for business, and very bad for me keeping my job.  And not really a fair fight, either, since he wasn't at full capacity.
But then, like the Sun suddenly shining after the terminus lifts its veiled curtain (had to work my opening metaphor in somehow), one of the customers who had watched the confrontation, a nondescript white guy, started barking at my friend in Cree.  Seriously, it was a classic Deus Ex Machina, one of the coolest things I've seen in a long time.  The native guy, startled, replied weakly in Cree, and the white guy got up and more or less chased him off.  Turns out he was a cop. 
So that was kind of cool.  Later I went home and sat on the newly finished balcony (yay!), watched the street life below, watched the Sun oh-so-slowly recede here in our Northern sky, and reflected on the nature of termini.