To put my thoughts into the words of someone else.
Purposely he walked. Without a plan he lived. Mimicking others seen. He thought, if only I could do like they do. He dreamed of living the only dream worth dreaming: recognition. Sometimes he convinced himself he was already dead. Scarce interactions, or none. No one any longer called him son, and so he wandered wondering why.
As he walked he passed a black man in a white suit, flawless, long white coat, and a white heart painted on the back of each hand. Curtis immediately envisioned him with a hat and a cane to match the white loafers - everything - as he passed.
“Life is blessed. Love is blind.” Directed at no one in particular, though they were the only two on the street.
“Excuse me, sir. Why are you dressed this way?”
“What way? This is my way. I wear this everyday.”
“Where are you going?”
The man in hearts kept walking and turned into the park. “My way. I walked this route everyday.”
“Why the white?”
“You sayin’ it ain’t right?” But it wasn’t a question, and he kept on walking. Curtis followed.
“Am I alive? Because sometimes I feel like I’m dying side. It doesn’t hurt, but everything is fading. My organs grow numb. Sometimes when I want to snap I can’t find my thumb. There are days where I speed up the process by drinking and smoking and fighting with unfriendly types, but I keep coming back. I don’t know what to do, mister, sometimes living doesn’t seem worth what they say.”
Hearts on hand, the man continued on.
“Excuse me. Do you have the answer?”
“It depends on the question and the quantity.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I thought the problem was that you didn’t. Your life is worth whatever sum you make it, and there are people out there who will take it if you let them. A life is a blink in the history of the world. It doesn’t matter much regardless of your presence in it, life will bowl over you after you’re dead. But now, here you are, and here I am. If you ever need any help, I’m your man. Just look for the hearts in the near east of the park.”
And with that the man walked into a thick set of bushes.
As dusk was beginning to settle, Curtis felt uneasy and back on his path to nowhere, even more confused to it this life he seemed to be living was even real. Befuddled he turned on his heel and retreated to the sounds of cars busying themselves into night.
Purposely he walked. Without a plan he lived. Mimicking others seen. He thought, if only I could do like they do. He dreamed of living the only dream worth dreaming: recognition. Sometimes he convinced himself he was already dead. Scarce interactions, or none. No one any longer called him son, and so he wandered wondering why.
As he walked he passed a black man in a white suit, flawless, long white coat, and a white heart painted on the back of each hand. Curtis immediately envisioned him with a hat and a cane to match the white loafers - everything - as he passed.
“Life is blessed. Love is blind.” Directed at no one in particular, though they were the only two on the street.
“Excuse me, sir. Why are you dressed this way?”
“What way? This is my way. I wear this everyday.”
“Where are you going?”
The man in hearts kept walking and turned into the park. “My way. I walked this route everyday.”
“Why the white?”
“You sayin’ it ain’t right?” But it wasn’t a question, and he kept on walking. Curtis followed.
“Am I alive? Because sometimes I feel like I’m dying side. It doesn’t hurt, but everything is fading. My organs grow numb. Sometimes when I want to snap I can’t find my thumb. There are days where I speed up the process by drinking and smoking and fighting with unfriendly types, but I keep coming back. I don’t know what to do, mister, sometimes living doesn’t seem worth what they say.”
Hearts on hand, the man continued on.
“Excuse me. Do you have the answer?”
“It depends on the question and the quantity.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I thought the problem was that you didn’t. Your life is worth whatever sum you make it, and there are people out there who will take it if you let them. A life is a blink in the history of the world. It doesn’t matter much regardless of your presence in it, life will bowl over you after you’re dead. But now, here you are, and here I am. If you ever need any help, I’m your man. Just look for the hearts in the near east of the park.”
And with that the man walked into a thick set of bushes.
As dusk was beginning to settle, Curtis felt uneasy and back on his path to nowhere, even more confused to it this life he seemed to be living was even real. Befuddled he turned on his heel and retreated to the sounds of cars busying themselves into night.
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