Midnight, on a Bench, ____ Street

It feels pointless at moments, like I'm on display. But then again - so is everyone else. We're even on that score.

On select moments within the daily humdrum, when I free my mind enough to think, I feel a vague sensation of trying to unravel this big riddle. Except it's too difficult. Requires too much sustained concentration. So like a Rubik's Cube wasted on the impatient, I toss the riddle aside, figuring I'll chip away at it some other time. But each time, I'm starting from scratch.

Tonight I'm alone.

The weather is perfect. Light breeze. Cool, not cold. It's a special experience. stretches of noise, cars whizzing by, punctuated by moments of silence. Relief. It's not them that I'm here for, though.

Random moments in people's lives: young, religious girl helping her grandmother down the street; hip Jerusalemites, with their 3/4 pants and sandals, congregating outside some bar - discussing their big travels, big career plans and, of course, the big soccer match; a solitary young woman in colorful shuk garb shows up on the horizon, grows larger and larger as she comes near, then past me and into the car; the obvious first-date couple, "uhhhh"-ing away at each other through their best attempts at a natural grin; the smokers, communicating by proximity rather than language, like a pack of cats on a lazy afternoon; the mad biker, going for a speed record whilst pulling off a wheelie. But by and large, each and every person is in a box and outside of it. Ultimately indescribable.

Then comes someone I know.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"So, you like sitting on this bench?"

"Oh, no. I'm waiting for someone.."