I'm an observer. I watch people and things and try to make some sense of them. This world is a strange place, and writing down what I see makes me feel like less of an alien. I see a lot of interesting things in my adopted hometown of DC. Here are a few such things:
Things I See in DC - #2 (June-July, 2012)
A chipmunk scurries through a hole in the fence, onto the patio, eying a saltine cracked I left out, knowingly, just for her. She chomps it down and stuffs her cheeks full, escapes through yet another hole in the fence. The whole time my cat, Sonoma, watches from behind the glass, keen, focused, shivering with the want of violence.
I’m on a red line train, coming home from a baseball game, when a young man walks up to me. He slaps me five, gives me a hug and asks, "Where'd you serve time, bro?" After some interesting discussion about my lack of time behind bars, this gentleman informs me that the placement and design of one of my tattoos has a deeper meaning than the one I ascribe to it. Apparently, according to my tattoo, I’m a member of a certain Latino gang, a member who has served time in California state prison. After explaining this to me, the man pulls up his shirt and shows me his tattoo, which is strikingly similar to my own.
Things I See in DC - #2 (June-July, 2012)
A chipmunk scurries through a hole in the fence, onto the patio, eying a saltine cracked I left out, knowingly, just for her. She chomps it down and stuffs her cheeks full, escapes through yet another hole in the fence. The whole time my cat, Sonoma, watches from behind the glass, keen, focused, shivering with the want of violence.
I’m on a red line train, coming home from a baseball game, when a young man walks up to me. He slaps me five, gives me a hug and asks, "Where'd you serve time, bro?" After some interesting discussion about my lack of time behind bars, this gentleman informs me that the placement and design of one of my tattoos has a deeper meaning than the one I ascribe to it. Apparently, according to my tattoo, I’m a member of a certain Latino gang, a member who has served time in California state prison. After explaining this to me, the man pulls up his shirt and shows me his tattoo, which is strikingly similar to my own.
Click here for the May-June 2012 installment.
A bird stops by to say hello while I'm working on some writing in Cleveland Park . |
No comments:
Post a Comment