Ryan’s Place

I’m starting to find myself going insane.

So I’m going to say more about that.

Considering the latest episodes in my life, I think it’s going well enough, I guess.  There are some interesting times, some times I wish I could reverse, some times where I could make everything better, and some times where I could have just stopped time and thought.

I was downtown (when am I not), going down to the Starbucks on Duns and Seymour for a meeting.  I got my iced mocha, found there was nowhere to sit in the cramped little café, and decided to stand outside under the awning.  Standing, perched up against the wall, slowly sipping my coffee through a green straw I watched the street.  I found that watching the people go by on the street was oddly relaxing.  I realize that people watching sounds mildly voyeuristic, but it is oddly relaxing.

I found that I would watch people go by, all of them concerned with either their day, their lives, their work, their school, their personal lives, the stories that their friends spoke about on the phone.  The sound of the music from their headphones, the frightening sound of the bus going by to the small children, the angry drivers trying to make left hand turns, and the tourists confused by the angle of the city.  Watching them all progress through the intersection was interesting, and eventually they all melded together into the progressional mass of human individuality.

And then someone caught my eye.  This woman crossing the street looked like she didn’t belong.  She seemed young, and oddly aged at the same time.  She had bright light blue eyes, dark blond hair, fair skin, and she was wrapped in what looked like a thin, grey shall.  It covered her from the neck down to her waist.  Thin enough to see the fabric strech across her hands, where you could distinguish the detail from her fingers, her tendons, and skin as she held her hands together at her waist.  Thick enough to be opaque, and impenetrable to light and prying eyes.  She wore little jewelry, small pendant earrings moved as she stepped, but through the veil she wore no rings, no bracelets.  Minimal make up, only that which was natural, and simple.  I could still see her tiny freckles under her eyes.

Details persisted, she walked with purpose, taking each step in stride towards whatever goal she had.  Yet it looked as if something was troubling her, as if she was pained, as if some great weight was upon her.  She looked unsure, or somewhat bothered by the purpose she had in her step.

And all of this, in the 10 seconds it took her to pass me by, and disappear around the corner.  I wondered, why did she bother, or intrigue me so?  Should I be so bold, to say that this is an omen?  Something to forewarn me of things to come?  Of things to be done, or of things that will, or would have been to those I know?  Should I even know now?

And now as I write this, I find no answers to the questions I ask.  Maybe this is to be all that is, and all my questions will remain unanswered for eternity.  For now, I will take the time to sit, write, contemplate, reflect, and watch.

I see roses on the balcony across the street.