The silent journey to work, a time shared with anonymous companions that I see each day I take this transit. I wonder if any of them recognise me, or even notice their fellow passengers?
A short story, a message to myself, found again by accident. Written a year ago. It is a message of hope, written in an uncertain time.
An adventure into a world on the edge of society, to a place where the usual rules don’t apply. A place of free conversation, where people can be true to themselves.
Sheltering at home from the storm, I think back to the night before.
The weekend begins with an unpleasant task, an overdue part of the regular chores.
Not a lot happened, today. But I’m going to tell you all about it, all the same.
Contrasts, observed in comparison, between now and then. A month has passed, and I have an opportunity to view the same place in a different light. Quite literally; thinking about it.
Starting the weekend with a little upkeep, then a trip into town. Not a lot going on, and now I need to decide what to do with my night.
In a small room, above a bar, a man tells his story. The audience, as he wishes, laughs.
It was just a day. It happened. But that’s okay.