Tuesday, September 9, 2014

warm sidewalks toasting in the sun

 If shit is the new gold, then the sidewalks here are certainly paved with it.
Which means that you have to watch your step when you're commuting along these sidewalks. One must watch one's step at all times. One's guard can never be let down; constant vigilance is the name of the day. 
But, the other day, I finally felt my eyes glaze over behind my sunglasses.
It had been a long day, and I let my mind wander while my eyes still stared ahead.
Huh, I thought. Not able to move my eyes, but considering how I must look from the outside, this is a bad case of Commuter's Stare.
I was fascinated by this relieving feeling of staring into a vacuum.
I had seen Commuter's Stare all over the London tube and the New York subway (why is subterranean public transport such a hotbed of Commuter's Stare?), but I had never experienced it myself. Because I was usually a bright-eyed adventurer full of wonder.
My eyes were not full of wonder at the moment; they were using their depth-perception skills to find patches of sidewalk not covered in dog-shit. This is probably how they had fallen susceptible to Commuter's Stare.
This is very interesting, I thought. 
I am tired. I am spent. And I don't have the energy to look at the world with wonder.
All of a sudden, I looked up at a building I have passed many times before.
There, tattooed on the rough plaster, I saw those familiar words of comfort graffiti-ed on the side of the building.
And that was my favorite letter I received last week.

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