Thursday, August 14, 2014

Its incompleteness

I sat at the SF mall, wishing myself elsewhere, and had lunch in the food court. It is a nice place to dine, most of the time, really. I usually eat raw fish, spiced ahi poke or salmon, or both. 

I know, I know... Fukushima. Recently, I perched upon the shore and felt myself growing warmer by invisible degrees.

As I sat in the mall, a thousand and ten miles from land, I could just barely hear a song being piped over the speaker system. Normally these tracks are either bland and flat, or simply atrocious, but this was sad and lonely and beautiful. I strained to find and follow the drifting melody. It is perhaps why I loved it, the feeling that I couldn't quite latch on, to hear its refrains, to find the moment when it might repeat, and that it would too soon be over.

Then, just like that, it was.