It's All Connected
I sat on the top deck of the airport bus, looking down upon the congested lanes of the freeway. We must have passed a thousand drivers. Each car was different. Blue paint; red paint. Roof down; baby seats. Leaning over steering wheel at 10 and 2; leaning back and orientated via a pinky. Mobile phone in left hand, by thigh; mobile in right hand, held to ear.
If this was a simulation then surely two of those cars would overlap. The randomiser would hit the same pattern twice. I’d see it.
Every car was unique. Each driver an original.
The gym, lunchtimes on workdays. There are pegs to hang your trousers and polo shirts on. You’ll pass them on your trips to the water fountain. You’ll see a striped shirt hanging loose above long, white chinos and before your right brain can process it your left brain says: Hey! That’s me!
The right brain can’t be convinced fully either way.
My physio has told me I’m not walking correctly. My legs are pulling my body. My posture should be less reclined, like my core is driving my legs. Is this why the UberEats coupon distributors by the railway station never attempt to get my attention? They don’t even try.
I’m doing it wrong.