david

How odd is it that in life people sometimes come and go like the tide? They come in to it then go out of it just as suddenly. This weekend, as I wrote yesterday, I was doing some volunteer work at Greenwich market. I was manning a stall in the corner of the ancient place, working with a man called David. He was, I’d guess, in his late fifties or early sixties, and we quickly struck up a conversation, mostly about history. We thus got to know a bit about each other, and I really enjoyed talking to him: he has a daughter in Melbourne and had travelled Australia extensively, although I don’t think he had ever heard of the Cat Empire. He helped me with my lunch and even bought cookies. I liked the guy, and at the end of the weekend, when the stall was being dismantled, we shook hands and parted. It’s rather odd to reflect on the fact that I will probably never see this man again, and what that says about life in the modern maelstrom, and human relationships in general.

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