I am an improbable statistic. As we all are. I have a brother and this brother has a name. A man in my neighborhood has/had a brother and likely this brother has/had the same name. The has/had distinction being an important one, re dead v alive. But it's not that important.

So there is a man in my neighborhood and he is prone to loitering. Typically, I am of the pro-loitering ilk ("Let them loiter," I say), but this man has taken the pastime to its most extreme level. His loitering is so aimless and constant one might think he is a statue or a lobotomized human animal. He doesn't seem drunk or on drugs, nor does he stink or act aggressively or even act odd at all, but yet he loiters ad infinitum, usually around the same place every single time, all the time, migrating to a different corner of the intersection occasionally.

His head moves and bobs and maybe he is even looking at things. His existence is simple. Does he eat and sleep? One would assume so but I cannot vouch for it. I have passed by this man in my neighborhood over 100 times and each time he wordlessly stands there, disheveled (yes) but not smelly. I pass by with my daughter in her stroller and his expression and stance remain the same. Everything is completely unremarkable.

Until this morning, that is.

This morning I noticed a tattoo on the left leg of the man in my neighborhood. The tattoo is pictured above, it reads: "Brother ♢ JB." I also have a Brother ♢ JB. (We are all diamonds, though.)

And so this changes nothing. These are the sham connections we sometimes see, sometimes feel. I have recorded the incident of my noticing and created content out of it. It now exists on this website. Hooray. When I see the man in my neighborhood again, perhaps I will notice the tattoo and think about my brother. Or perhaps I won't. It will be colder out soon, and his jorts will turn to jeans. I won't see the ink and I won't think about anything at all.


Post a Comment