In the past year or so, when I've been out and about, I occasionally have had a vague feeling of being somewhat invisible! Not noticed. At first it felt strange. I took the time to Google it. Apparently, this is not an unusual feeling for a middle aged (if I live to be 118 years old) woman to experience. That was somewhat reassuring. Now, accustomed to this alter ego, I use it to my advantage as an observer. It is easy enough for me to speak up and be noticed if necessary.
|THE VARIOUS STAGES OF RIPENING|
|AFTER FRUIT FALL - WOODY REMNANTS OF PERSIMMON BLOSSOM CLING TO THE BRANCH|
"They have nothing to offer you. They never did have anything to offer you."
"Take hold of my hand."
"This is the key!"
"It's the first thing you'll see when you go."
"Maybe then, I can go home."
Each phrase spoken by a different person; a nearby woman, a man to the woman he was with, a little girl exclaiming about a book cover, the little girl's mom, a cashier and trainee, a woman on her phone, and a man on his phone.
These were the phrases that carried to my ears over the cacophony of coffee makers and customers. I wrote the phrases as I heard them. I don't know why. It seemed to be a good idea at the time. As I wrote what I heard, the phrases came together almost like the outline for a short story. Bits of conversation woven together in some sort of cosmic commentary.
It was interesting wading in the collective thought stream on this Sunday afternoon.
|THEY SEEM BRIGHTEST RIGHT BEFORE THE KILLING FROST - NIGHTSHADE BERRIES|