Wednesday, February 11
Tuesday, February 10
Monday, February 9
I met an overweight homeless man.
I was skipping along the sidewalk on my way to purchase a tasty lunch of soup AND sandwich, when an enormous mass came into my field of vision.
It was a human man.
He sat on the ground with his back against the display window of a discount hat store called "Edgar Allen Chapeau," but all that adorned his head was a tattered crown of sadness, which in most parts of the country is called a Chicago Cubs hat. The gentleman also had on a filth encrusted, yet forever stylish, t-shirt and sweatpants combo that was stretched beyond any conceivable tension limits. On this day I learned that fabric can feel pain.
Pedestrian's gazes turned from the grown man who had moments ago been skipping down the street to this spherical vagrant who was changing the flow of foot traffic. Never in my life have I seen such a large domicile-impaired individual. I wanted to inspect him visually, so I could make a solid guesstimate on his weight, but as I made my way to the opposite side, I became winded and gave up.
The man seemed to be completely unconscious. He just sat there motionless, like a massive bean bag that hadcome into some tough times. Just as I was about to leave after a good 15 minutes of observing, his once restful eyes exploded open.
Startled, I and the others jumped back. Our startlization levels intensified even further when the homeless fellow sprang to his feet with the agility of a Lynx pouncing on a snow hare. We took another step back and were almost sent backpedaling into traffic with what happened next.
He looked around wide-eyed and confused as if he had no idea where he was. Then his mouth opened and words sprang forth. Words mortal men are not used to hearing.
"NO! THE ROOTS ARE GONE! IT'S ALL COMING DOWN! MAKE FOR THE RIVER"'
The words blasted out of him with such force and conviction, that when he turned turned the corner and bolted towards the Hudson, no less than four people were following. I have never seen any of them again in my travels.
With my composure regained, I returned to thoughts of my sandwich, and skipped on.