Louder than Words…
I had to close my eyes a few times to force them back – the salty droplets that threatened to make me out like an idiot on street. I don’t know what it was exactly… actually, I do know what it was, but I don’t know what aspect of what it was that made me want to cry.
It’s not like I hadn’t seen him before, muttering to himself while picking at his thick black toenails with fingernails just as dirt-riddled. His hair was still unkempt in an electrically static sort of way, and he still hadn’t had the glory of water wash over his skin. So what was it about seeing him today that spurred so much emotion?
It was the look. That moment I glanced at him and he looked at me, like, looked at me with no hint of the insanity that had always been present. I wouldn’t say he recognised me as such, but it was as though he knew me, knew that I regularly walked past him on the way to work if I chose to take that route, and as though he knew something about me that he shouldn’t.
What I would pay to have that watery gaze translated into words that I could understand; words that would do more than simply graze my psyche, but spur me to action. Yet all I managed to gather was just do the right thing, and what I did in my moment of confusion was walk right past. Again. This time, with a lump in my throat and the threat of tears that would follow.
– The Londoner