We all derive false impressions upon first sight.
I see an old lady with a jewellery pushcart
and think how pitiable to be working at her age.
She must be terribly in need of money, or perhaps her children have left her.
My mind goes wild thinking of possibilities to define her situation.
Don’t we all have that disgusting habit of filling in the gaps
for our knowledge of somebody else’s life?
You can’t have imagined
this could have been all she dreamt of in her younger years.
A simple side-walk business, working in her most comfortable knitted dress.
Occasionally in her Sunday best,
selling beautiful handcrafted creations to a much younger version of herself –
a stressed-out young office lady in town on a precious weekend.
The old lady could love these welcome deviations
from high-powered business-suits,
high-rise offices and even higher heels
she had been so painfully accustomed to.
She’s finally able to live her dream at 85 years old.
Whoever stops to think about an old lady on a pushcart?
She’s nobody to you
except the intriguing know-it-all smile that comes with age.
As if there’s a certain familiarity,
a sense of knowing who I am and what I’m thinking as I look at her.
She’s somebody who’s seen a great deal of things,
enough to recognize a blank notebook waiting to be filled.
My idea of a great afternoon –
sitting in a cafe
with good coffee, too much chocolates
and a pile of books.
When I need excitement, I get it in extreme doses,
which is why I love roller coasters
too loud music,
and laughing insanely over the smallest things.
Will I be the same
Fifty years down the road
Would I still recognize myself when I see my own reflection in the window glass?
I’d have outlived the old lady,
But will I have outlived myself,
dried out, wasted and still empty?
Or will I be filled with age and years,
smiling to girls who saunter pass on lazy Sunday afternoons,
having lived the life I dreamt,
while still thankful for sunrise
in handing out the opportunity to seize every minute by the ticking hand
till we pause to catch our breaths and enjoy the beauty of sunset.
The old lady doesn’t care about curious stares.
She goes on with her life.
It’s a scientifically proven fact for passing automatic judgements…
our own little psychoanalysis of strangers.
Ultimately perceptions can only take us so close to,
but never right into,
the heart of what’s real.