I went for a long tromp in a big square around this side of Gone West this afternoon, twenty or so blocks north, twenty or so blocks east, twenty or so blocks south, and then twenty or so blocks back west to get home. I left in the middle of the afternoon, but it was very nearly completely dark by the time I got back to my apartment and walked into the oddly-sweltering lobby.
I walked through the neighborhood of big old houses where the churches still say Missionary Baptist, even though the white people are moving in. I walked past the crumbling storefronts on a street that used to be booming. I walked along a gentrifying thoroughfare. I walked past an old mossy wall. I walked through perfect manicured front lawns. I walked through the mall.
At approximately each corner of the square, I stopped. At the first corner, I drank a cappuccino while sitting in the sun that turned to gloom that turned to sun that turned to gloom. Each time the sun disappeared, I got a little bit colder, until I had to move or lose the feeling in my fingers.
At the second corner, I bought rose hips and echinacea at the co-op, and had a big warm cup of Assam tea at the tea shop. People played games at the tables around me: Uno at one ("Is there a strategy to this game?" the guy asked), canasta at another, and Guess Who? at at a third. At the canasta table, the girl explained to the guy how to play Guess Who? when they saw the other table beginning it. I sipped the malty, sweet tea, and then left with it. I finished it a few blocks in, but there was no trash can for miles, so I carried the paper cup a very long way.
At the third corner, I tried on pair after pair of sunglasses. My old pair is scratched, and the tiny screw keeps falling out of the hinge. It is unpleasant to pull out sunglasses and find them missing one of the earpieces. It looks weird when you wear them that way. I bought a new pair a few weeks ago, but they pinch my nose. So now I have two more pairs, tested extensively for comfort, and I'll have to donate the pinchy pair. S. can have them. Hers were stolen a while ago, and she replaced them with a bright yellow pair. She looks strikingly like a toddler when she wears them. Who else has plastic yellow sunglasses?
I ran my hands over the journals in the bookstore. Lined paper is my Waterloo. I cannot resist it. I picked up a leather one and smelled it. Ah. Leather and paper. I plotted which one will be my next constant companion. And then, reluctantly, I left them all there, and walked the last side of the square home without them, through the chilly night air.
I walked through the neighborhood of big old houses where the churches still say Missionary Baptist, even though the white people are moving in. I walked past the crumbling storefronts on a street that used to be booming. I walked along a gentrifying thoroughfare. I walked past an old mossy wall. I walked through perfect manicured front lawns. I walked through the mall.
At approximately each corner of the square, I stopped. At the first corner, I drank a cappuccino while sitting in the sun that turned to gloom that turned to sun that turned to gloom. Each time the sun disappeared, I got a little bit colder, until I had to move or lose the feeling in my fingers.
At the second corner, I bought rose hips and echinacea at the co-op, and had a big warm cup of Assam tea at the tea shop. People played games at the tables around me: Uno at one ("Is there a strategy to this game?" the guy asked), canasta at another, and Guess Who? at at a third. At the canasta table, the girl explained to the guy how to play Guess Who? when they saw the other table beginning it. I sipped the malty, sweet tea, and then left with it. I finished it a few blocks in, but there was no trash can for miles, so I carried the paper cup a very long way.
At the third corner, I tried on pair after pair of sunglasses. My old pair is scratched, and the tiny screw keeps falling out of the hinge. It is unpleasant to pull out sunglasses and find them missing one of the earpieces. It looks weird when you wear them that way. I bought a new pair a few weeks ago, but they pinch my nose. So now I have two more pairs, tested extensively for comfort, and I'll have to donate the pinchy pair. S. can have them. Hers were stolen a while ago, and she replaced them with a bright yellow pair. She looks strikingly like a toddler when she wears them. Who else has plastic yellow sunglasses?
I ran my hands over the journals in the bookstore. Lined paper is my Waterloo. I cannot resist it. I picked up a leather one and smelled it. Ah. Leather and paper. I plotted which one will be my next constant companion. And then, reluctantly, I left them all there, and walked the last side of the square home without them, through the chilly night air.
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