* * * * *
Well, that's it: another year on the path behind us. Or left wandering blind in the forest.
Some quick and haphazard math tells me that I walked about 1600 kilometres this year. And who did I meet along the way? Well, some very interesting folks.
O headband guy -- why are you fighting it? Don't you feel how cold it is? I've got the hood up on my parka and I still feel the wind. And why are you trying to save your hair? You're like, 45 or 50 years old. Nobody cares what we look like anymore. Nobody under the age of 30 even sees us. (And you can drop the all-black thing, too -- 1992 is nothing but bones now.)
O skeevy guy -- I see you. It's obvious that you're not really walking anywhere because you don't have anywhere to go. You're just kind of twitching your way around the neighbourhood. Looking around. Looking for things to steal or places to break into. Or someone you know so they can give you some smokes. And then you'll assault them!
God you're going to get such a cold.
And you're going to get pneumonia.
rough lumberjacket guy
You're can't do that thing up, can you? And even if you could, you wouldn't.
hunchback with styrofoam cup
A personal favourite. You hold that empty styrofoam cup aloft before you like it's the olympic torch. Where are you going? Where are you taking it? What an enigma you are, o neighbourhood frankenstein!
Yes, I see, you have a fur hat. What a maverick! You can stop grinning now.
She's insane (it's the multiple layers of sweat pants) and the male half follows about five paces behind -- grim, dirty, constantly smoking, and emitting this low-pitched grumble as you walk by. She might look at you (at least with one eye) but he never does; in fact, he's not really looking at anything. And there they go.