entry: 3.6

Journal Entry 3.6:  

They tell you to travel and to see. To go and experience. But what happens when you leave? I suppose, from my standpoint, the city I have traveled to will operate just the same without me. Yet, when I depart, I will be left with imprints of all images. The man who walks with limping legs that avert outward, balances himself with a cane as he carries himself across the street. He doesn’t know I am watching him. He won’t remember me, but beyond this journey, I will carry his image. There is a light in the eyes of the woman who holds her son in her arms waiting for change. She can’t see me either but I will remember how her eyes glistened — hope — when someone graced her presence with an offering, and how she shook her jar of change, and all the coins danced collectively to sound prosperity. The rain that falls. It showers me just this once, but this holy water will never cleanse me again. Not in this same spot, not in this same moment. And when I depart, I think:  What will happen to these people? Where will they go? I wonder.

These thoughts linger within me still.