Walking Man

Every morning on my way to work, I pass a man walking down the road. He is always on the same road and is always wearing the same dark clothes, and a dark blue baseball cap. He is tall and thin. He does not walk very slowly or very quickly. He looks neither happy not unhappy to be walking down the road. He is not trudging along even though this walking were a tiresome chore.

The road where I see this man is a busy one – lots of traffic. I have never seen another walker. Every time I see him, I try to figure or imagine who he is and why he walks along this road every morning. I think that he must be walking to work. There are a number of businesses in the direction he walks and his clothes could be business casual in an office or a small factory along this road. He may live nearby, or he could be coming from a bus.

I find myself building a life for him, and an explanation for his presence. I imagine his family, his history, what sort of work he does. Explanations for why he walks in a place where people only drive. I form opinions about this man based on where and how he walks, what he wears.

I wonder what opinions he forms about me as I pass by.

I Was Born To Walk Alone

My officemate, a good person, has left the building. She took a new job at one company and today was her last day. She is gregarious and fun and a very nice woman even if she talks too loud on the phone so I sometimes can't hear myself think. My office is already too empty and too quiet.

Good luck, my friend.

"For you, a thousand times over"

I just finished reading "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. I don't know If I can describe how I feel about this book, the weirdest thing is I am not the kind of person who likes to read novels, but this one is absolutely different.

It tells a heartbreaking story of the friendship between Amir, the son of a wealthy Afghan businessman, and Hassan, the son of his father's servant. Amir is Sunni, Hassan is Shi'a. One is born to a privileged class, the other to a loathed minority. One to a father of enormous presence, the other to a crippled man. One is an excellent reader, the other is an illiterate.

The poor Hassan is born with a harelip.

While reading, I've seen the beauty and violence of the country, Afghanistan, comes to life. The customs, the sights, food and smells of the city, the desolation of life and the loss of the country to mad men who are running it with only their imagined vulgar needs and wealth in mind that destroys a culture so varied and rich.

It is pretty thrilling to think that in this big bad world that supports the survival of the Taliban's existence that some people will remain loyal to those they love no matter what.

Although there was one time that I felt the story was a little too implausible, It didn't matter. I felt like I was in the middle of a true story, getting caught up in the life of Amir and Hassan. Wallah my heart was torn and I did cry at various parts of it. It's one of the best books I've read in my life.

"For you, a thousand times over"

I will remember these words for long though.