Deposits of Time

The man’s head hung low. He sat with his knees up. He was staring into the dirt by his feet and writing his life in the sand with a stick. Or so it seemed.

I watched ... on purpose, those walking by him ... and they were laughing at whatever one of them said, chatting, and moving along to their next destination.

I’m sure he didn’t see them except for their fast-moving feet. But you could hear their joy, as I did.