![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The one regret
24 July 2007 11:35He was French, heading to Rome for business. Had a dress shirt on that was startched, striped, and sexy. Took the liberty to examine his masculine chest, as he changed into another shirt on the train.
I was backpacking, in the same sleeper car with a family of south-east Asian decent looking family: a daughter, her father, her mother.
He asked if I wanted to go and grab a cocktail, in English, which he spoke quite well. I declined, for reasons unexplained.
My only one true regret.
In the rush of departing the train after a nights journey, he left behind his book "One Mans Show", simply pale paperback, black lettering with the only English words, being the title. Somehow it found its way into my backpack.
I didn't take his photo. I did of the Chinese family, of Judd, of Todd, but not him. I just have this book, that I can't read. A momemento of the experience.
In the que, at the Miami Internation Airport, the vision of that experience, was recalled. I pulled out my camera, and took a photo. Jon mirrored my actions.....
I may never see Jon again. Exchanging contact information seemed frugal. Much like debulking the "Catcher in the Rye" philosophy. Much like I'll never see the chinese family, Judd, or Todd. I see them. In thier reflection, in chemical reaction of paper and light... I have their photograph.....much like the one I have Jon... a million little pixils...
I was backpacking, in the same sleeper car with a family of south-east Asian decent looking family: a daughter, her father, her mother.
He asked if I wanted to go and grab a cocktail, in English, which he spoke quite well. I declined, for reasons unexplained.
My only one true regret.
In the rush of departing the train after a nights journey, he left behind his book "One Mans Show", simply pale paperback, black lettering with the only English words, being the title. Somehow it found its way into my backpack.
I didn't take his photo. I did of the Chinese family, of Judd, of Todd, but not him. I just have this book, that I can't read. A momemento of the experience.
In the que, at the Miami Internation Airport, the vision of that experience, was recalled. I pulled out my camera, and took a photo. Jon mirrored my actions.....
I may never see Jon again. Exchanging contact information seemed frugal. Much like debulking the "Catcher in the Rye" philosophy. Much like I'll never see the chinese family, Judd, or Todd. I see them. In thier reflection, in chemical reaction of paper and light... I have their photograph.....much like the one I have Jon... a million little pixils...
