it is not an exclusive club. they are the humans that wake up each day to do the same thing. at one time they were full of dreams and hope. there were moments of sheer brilliance and creativity. they were angry about injustices or maybe just angry enough to do something. they were committed enough to take part in things that were not logical or part of the prescribed remedy. the prescribed remedy for life. simply a path to take until death do they part. i do not make a habit of looking at myself in the mirror very often. i am not sure why, but i do not like to do it. recently i have caught my eyes in the mirror. obviously being attached to my face these have to be my eyes. but i know my eyes and they have life behind them, the eyes i have been seeing in the mirror do not.
moses has started to share a story about one of these individuals. read about frank or the spirit of frank (the story starts on 7-26-06).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
i dont know if death is the proper word for what i see in the eyes of my fellow metro riders. i think in some cases, it is far worse than death. death implies a future, a release, something to look forward to. the eyes that i see dont even have that. cold and stone-like even implies some emotion. these are the eyes of robots. they know nothing but a routine. death implies that there is or once was life, and i dont see that in the eyes of these people
Post a Comment