I’m walking up State Street with my headphones on. There’s an old man sitting on his stoop with a glass of what looks like dark beer, smoking and seemingly talking (very excitedly) to himself.
I offer a polite wave and smile as I walk by and he gestures wildly in front of himself. I can’t hear what he says, because of the headphones, but I see the fat awesome calico cat he was pointing toward. I smile again.
I’d like to think he was telling me he was talking to the cat, not himself, while he drinks and smokes on his stoop – as if that would make him less crazy
These little exchanges are what life is made of, and that’s why I love life.
