On coping with life.

Faces. I consciously notice faces of pedestrians. On my daily walks.  Italian faces. Because that’s where I am. In Italy. In Sardinia. In the city of Carbonia. I observe. Expressions. Trying to determine if people are happy or sad.  Hard to guess. The vast majority seem  neutral. Somewhere in between. Perhaps they have blank minds. No particular thought. Merely moving. Automatically. From one place to another.   Robots. Unaware of my presence.  I could be a visitor from another planet. One face, one expression stands out. An old man. Glum. Maybe not feeling well. Or a loved one recently died. Wish I could intervene. And enter his world. But we don’t speak the same language. He’s a stranger. Entitled to his privacy. And to his misery, if that’s what it is. What if someone was observing me? Would I be judged happy?  I’m pretending. Being the creator. Able to read minds.  Uncovering  secret thoughts. Satisfying my curiosity. That old man. I’d know what he’s all about.  The source of his sadness. I could solve his problems.  But would choose not to. It’s his responsibility to cope with life. In whatever way he sees fit. –Jim Broede