Listening to people. Their lives.
Walking home on Sunday I stop to talk to a man and his dog. We speak deeply, quickly. He brings up time and humanity which has me telling him about the interviews I’ve been collecting over the last few years. How the process is “unmooring me” as another friend has put it. He squares his eyes to mine. They change somehow and his being seems to reflect the space around him. He says “You’re lost. You don’t know where you are.” We talk for a short while. A bit about his family, the dog. He tells me about being in the Vietnam War, how our government was “killing the wrong people… innocent people there living on land… it was horrible”. We walk on a bit. He tells me about his recent stroke; his gait and connection to gravity echo his description of this altered state of being. I shift as I listen and stumble on the uneven sidewalk. He reaches out to steady me. His eyes reach out. After a while I need to go as the encounter begins to circle; another element comes in and begins to pile. For the time being, our time unaligns. I feel it, say good evening and walk on. As I do he raises “a penny for your thoughts?” the same moment I call “see you again”.
for the time being
for the time-being
Cole G 