The last Wednesday of the month (as long as there are 3 clear working days before the end of the month), around here is cheque day. Everyone on social assistance gets their money. Then things get interesting in the neighbourhood. Where I live could politely be called “a neighbourhood in transition”.
I was just at Subway for lunch and doing some people watching. Fantastic people watching around here. One man, who seemed to be in a very altered state, was walking along with a red balloon in his hands. Talking to it, in a very serious manner. I totally wanted to be a fly on that wall.
Another man walked by. Maybe 22 or 23 years old. You could see that he had been the BMOC in high school, or a bully, hard to tell the diff. Still handsome, still with the semi-slouching cool walk, the don’t mess with me . You could see all that in him, just barely. What you could also see was that he was a drug addict and all that he could think about was scoring. Head pivoting back and forth, jerky eye movements, hands in and out of his pockets 20 times per minute.
I always want to stop time and ask people I see how they got from A to B. How they became what they are now. Nature? Nurture? Luck, good or otherwise? Was it a fluke? What would you change if you could?
What did you want to be when you were a kid?
