19 Sep

no notes, just some words about three friends

They’d sit together like this on Sundays — well, also Saturdays and Mondays and holy-days and work-days and autumn days and summer days and most every-day really. But Sundays were their favorite. The first would grumble about the cars and trucks and mopeds. “They speed through here screeching their tires and swerving through my turns like they don’t know what to expect.” The second would roll his shutters at the influx of tourists spilling from the Pantheon. “They don’t know where to go. Along my left or along my right. They can’t figure out what’s hiding behind me. I’m not on those maps.” The third would raise a brow at the church-goers. “Sitting on those steps and looking at us like we’re maybe one wall, or two walls, or a wall behind a wall.” And they’d look at each other and smirk, content in their ability to surprise, disorient, and confuse.