All around that little pond in that small place between the downtown and uptown tracks, fallen leaves were scattered and scattered in the truest sense of the word-where there was no pattern and the mix was so intricate that you could not tell if the leaves had taken the shape of the ground or the ground had taken the shape of the leaves or whether they had gone and made their own form altogether. An amber form. That absorbs what warmth it gets from the sun and spreads it a little further.
And a thought occurred to me, then. I would like to live there. And not in the homeless, vagabond sense. But, I would like to live there. And I would like to find and be near people who could hear me say, “I want to live there,” and not ask why, not want to know more, not think that I am joking, not think that I am wanting to start a conversation. But, people who could hear me say, “I want to live there,” and who would take the time to look and see the little pond between the tracks and the scattered ground of leaves; and simply understand. People who would simply say, “Me too.”
Originally Posted On Facebook.