•Thursday, August 21, 2008
Whenever I walk down the road, I don't know why sometimes I get into the rhythm of placing a foot in each block. As always, there just before the pavement ends, etched into the cement is the another sempiternal question , " What is LIfe ? ". I'm not even going to try to pen down my thoughts about this one.
It's just that something so miniscule in comparison to the apartment buildings around it, is such a mystery. It always amuses me that someone thought to scratch a few words into the wet mixture, just before it set enough to bear the wear and tear of a million feet walking over it day in and day out. I wonder also, how many people actually notice the tiny lettering. Do they mull over this graffiti or wonder what lies ahead or get pensive about the past ? There has to be some reaction, right? Wonder if the person who made this scribbling, young-old, male-female, did it with some thought or on a fantastic whim. I only wish I were that impromptu in my actions. Leaving my mark places I've been. Touching the lives of people I'll never meet or know....
It's just that something so miniscule in comparison to the apartment buildings around it, is such a mystery. It always amuses me that someone thought to scratch a few words into the wet mixture, just before it set enough to bear the wear and tear of a million feet walking over it day in and day out. I wonder also, how many people actually notice the tiny lettering. Do they mull over this graffiti or wonder what lies ahead or get pensive about the past ? There has to be some reaction, right? Wonder if the person who made this scribbling, young-old, male-female, did it with some thought or on a fantastic whim. I only wish I were that impromptu in my actions. Leaving my mark places I've been. Touching the lives of people I'll never meet or know....
0 Spin Offs: