Friday, July 06, 2007

Plastic bags like pillow clouds

IMG_5705_1When the weather warms up and bathing suit season finally commences, the users of the trail change from being almost exclusively joggers and dog walkers to couples. Suddenly when I go for a run I'm afraid to stop at any of the viewpoints for fear of walking into an awkward situation.

I'm working on a different floor than I was last year, the only floor in the building which the women's washroom isn't right beside the stairwell. Instead, where the women's washroom should be, were I on any other floor, there is a men's washroom, where I accidentally end up quite regularly because I'm on autopilot.

As far as I know, the women's washroom on my floor is the only one that has a full-body mirror. I've been known on occasion to walk right up to the life-sized me on the wall and think that damn, I'm short. I'm so used to having everyone out there be taller than me that I only really notice I'm short when I'm faced with someone the same height as me. Odd, I know.

I took a moment today to watch a plastic bag float through the air, playing in the updraughts in the atmosphere about a hundred metres above the ground, until eventually it concluded its ascent and began to drop with the same grace with which it rose. Eventually everything succumbs to gravity. It's only a matter of time.

Wow, that's kind of morbid. Wasn't really meant to be. I'm going to bed now.