Wayward thoughts: Distances

Every morning these birds would come, always in pairs and sit on the cable wires not even looking at each other. Bored spouses, I'd think to myself as the tea, too hot, scalded my tongue. When the fog lifted, they'd fly away. Separately. In different directions. I wondered if they behaved differently on tree branches.

Do WE behave differently in different places and change our ways of seeing based on that?

- - -

A kite would occasionally stand on the window sill and look at the half-eaten morsels on my tray. A predatory bird helplessly looking at crumbs.

If I could open the window would it want any of that food? Is it not beneath the palatory requirements?

Do WE make such compromises in life? Why? Only because we see something and feel the need to covet it?

- - -

I walked a short distance on a muddy tract. There were huge black insects. The mud did not stick to them. My black shoes were covered with dust and muck when I had stepped on a wet patch.

There was a large stone and I tried to scrape away traces of the short sojourn. The insects happily scattered around, still black.

My shoes had much to show for nothing.

Do WE measure our journey through life by how much dust we collect? Or does our walking to and away from people, places, things tell us about distances?

- - -

Birds. Cable wires. Tea. Tongue. Kite. Morsels. Hunger. Dust. Muck. Insects. Shoes.

The fog never really lifts. The sky may be clear but distances are not.