I Need Answers

I left work yesterday, mid-afternoon, to get some fresh air. I sit at a desk for most of the day, and while that may sound unappealing to you (though, without putting thought to what, exactly, I do at this desk, I don't know why), it isn't all bad. But it does force the world to be still for an awful long time, and it makes it easy to forget everything else that could possibly be in motion.

I took a walk.

On my way, I encountered a parade of people boycotting a hotel. I encountered a musician, young, bad, playing, being recorded, at New Montgomery and Market.

I encountered a girl.

This girl was working for Greenpeace. She looked young and maybe pretty and she definitely had eyes. She told me what she was about and I told her that I had no interest in Greenpeace, but I did recently learn of a fellow employee who dedicates a small portion of his earnings to charity, through automatic payment. I said that I'd look into that, which is when she said, as if her love depended upon it, "please -- let me tell you about this." We shook hands, hers cold, mine warm, and she went on to tell me about her organization, her lifeblood, which was great for this reason or that, and not that important to me. She kept talking and I kept looking into her young believing eyes, and question after question rose to the top: How did you get this way? Do your parents know you're out here? Are you beautiful? Why do so many questions rise to the top? Is this what my days are like? Me asking questions of everything?

When she was through, I told her things that were true, and I shook her hand -- still cold, her offering -- and I left thinking about a chance encounter with someone who believes in things. With cold hands and blue eyes, and her whole life ahead of her.

I went back to work, sat in my chair, and the world went still.