Sitting on a bench I watched the people wander past. They each went their own way, with their own ideas. Their faces are now a blur. A man and a woman, a girl and a dog, each going their own way.
There walked past a young man with a bundle in his arms. He stopped for a moment, to decide on a direction perhaps, and the bundle fell. I heard the shattering of glass.
The young man reacted slowly. In his demeanor you could see his disappointment. He scooped up the felled package and carried it quickly to a wooden bench, whereon he opened it.
From my position I could see the broken remains of a plate, meant for a special someone, discarded in the nearby trashcan. The young man stood over the trashcan where the porcelain pieces lay, and paused briefly, perhaps thinking of another way to make her smile. I felt happy for this young man as he floated away on the evening’s loveliness. A broken plate won’t ever cause any pain.
Yesterday I was a day younger than I am today. Tomorrow I will be a day older than I am today. Tomorrow I will look back on today as today I look back on yesterday, and realize that had I known yesterday what I will know tomorrow, I would have done things differently. I know all this, and yet I would still do things differently.
I smoke my cigar from one end. The other end is lit. As I breath in its hot presence and let it float around in my head, the tobacco is absorbed into my blood. The hot floating breathe of my cigar fills my mouth and the tobacco my blood, and I exhale. The feeling is unique, I know not a similar one.