The Glory of talking to strangers or breaking down the walls for a full minute
By Royal Hopper
On a corner in the City of Sin you see a collection of people waiting for the light to change on a pedestrian cross walk. A man in a suit stands next a chick in a psychedelic jump suit/ sun dress and a dirty unshaven troglodyte dressed in yesterdays tossed away relics.
Suit guy stands heads down scanning a newspaper of some kind _ his outfit the very model of precision and social camouflage. His movements are sparse and necessary nothing more.
The psychedelic chick scans her cell phone flipping her carefully groomed purple hair her crystal pendant jumping and skipping across her neck as she does. She moves as if every gesture has some cosmic significance chosen by fate.
The scruffy character stares out at something in the distance lost in his own world and the beauty if mother nature.
All three occasionally look up at the red neon hand telling them it was not safe to cross and all looked impatient to stalk back into their individual worlds.
Absent mindedly pointing out something he read in the paper the suit guy quickly slips back into his metaphoric world when something psychedelic chick says with equally absent minded automaton like grace catches his ear. Scruffy guy pulls himself out of his unique trance and says something that catches both of their ears and soon three people who have never met and would likely never given a second thought to the other are having a conversation.
Each says something and each in turn shakes their head in agreement each unconsiously grasping an item like it was a talisman of power..the suit guy clutching his paper like a life preserver and fiddling with his expensive watch…psychadelic chick clutching her crystal and tapping on the screen of her cell phone without thought.
Scruffy guy for his part cannot help occassionally sniffing the air holding a piece of something in his hand, a twig or dried out plat or leaf or rock. What it means to him is just as unclear as what it is but it clearly means something to him.
The conversation becomes more animated each momentarily abandoning their icons to participate in the developing interaction each contributing at their opwn speed and acknowledging the others and chiming in with their own contribution _ not in competition but rather in an impromoptu dialetic.
They seem freed by the idea they will likely never see each other again ..and the conversation builds in intensity as it continues each actually smiling a bit at the others.
As it reaches a state of genuine friendliness and respect the conversation suddenly comes to a halt. The red hand on the other end of the crosswalk has changed to bright green. It is time to cross to the other side. All seem reluctant but each is in a hurry for some reason and beging stepping out onto the cross walk as they shake hands and promise to meet again and talk _a promise all likely know is doomed but seems the right thing to do …
As they near the other side the psychdelic chick pulls a piece of paper out and scribbles on it tears it in half and hands it to both of her fellow commuters pointing at her phone. Social media can be a wonderful thing says the suit guy his deeper voice filtering across the static city noise. The psychadelic chick smiles as an infectious giggle also pierces the city static and scruffy guy… “All right man …all right ….”
Not a fairy or total bull It is just life in the City of Sin
(pieces of different stories in this city that could be true)
Love You Sinners