reptile logic
An imposter among aliens.
Today, I rode with a friend to a brew pub which we frequent. The day was relatively warm, and would have been sunny, but for the heavy smoke haze that had blown in from the nearest wild-land fires.
After we ate, and while I was waiting for my friend to wrap up an audio conference, I sat outside and watched people, as they went about their business.
The first folks who caught my eye were the two skateboarders, who met five meters in front of me, exchanged smiles and a stylized handshake, then exchanged dissimilar backpacks. They then took off in different directions.
Another man paced nearby, nervously. His face lit up as his female friend arrived, late. They entered the pub that I had recently stepped out of.
The next actor in this ersatz play was a gentleman in his sixties, in black slacks and a blue, pocket tee. Turns out that he was waiting impatiently for someone a few decades younger, and male. Good for you; hope you both enjoyed yourselves.
The one who stood out in my mind most strongly, however, was the woman of thirty-five years of age, or so. She wore a simple, flower-patterned dress, and bead-adorned, white shoes that seemed little more than slippers. She wore a head covering; a simple, brown piece of cloth resembling a shawl which covered her head and shoulders. As she passed nearby, I spotted something on that shawl. To put it plainly, it was thick, green phlegm stuck to it, on the back of her neck. I had no idea whether this woman knew when or where she had suffered this casual assault on her person.
I thought to let her know what I had found, and decided against doing so. Whether she knew, or didn't, I felt that my acknowledgment of it could not have helped. That small thing represented so much wrong, it stuck with me. Who would ever dream that such an action would make anyone feel better, especially themselves?
Just thirty minutes, out in the world. There is much to see.
After we ate, and while I was waiting for my friend to wrap up an audio conference, I sat outside and watched people, as they went about their business.
The first folks who caught my eye were the two skateboarders, who met five meters in front of me, exchanged smiles and a stylized handshake, then exchanged dissimilar backpacks. They then took off in different directions.
Another man paced nearby, nervously. His face lit up as his female friend arrived, late. They entered the pub that I had recently stepped out of.
The next actor in this ersatz play was a gentleman in his sixties, in black slacks and a blue, pocket tee. Turns out that he was waiting impatiently for someone a few decades younger, and male. Good for you; hope you both enjoyed yourselves.
The one who stood out in my mind most strongly, however, was the woman of thirty-five years of age, or so. She wore a simple, flower-patterned dress, and bead-adorned, white shoes that seemed little more than slippers. She wore a head covering; a simple, brown piece of cloth resembling a shawl which covered her head and shoulders. As she passed nearby, I spotted something on that shawl. To put it plainly, it was thick, green phlegm stuck to it, on the back of her neck. I had no idea whether this woman knew when or where she had suffered this casual assault on her person.
I thought to let her know what I had found, and decided against doing so. Whether she knew, or didn't, I felt that my acknowledgment of it could not have helped. That small thing represented so much wrong, it stuck with me. Who would ever dream that such an action would make anyone feel better, especially themselves?
Just thirty minutes, out in the world. There is much to see.
