Love

How does one develop a love for a cat? Is it because they are so indifferent? Or elusive? Or less than magnanimous? Or insubordinate in nature? What does one get from a cat that one is not getting elsewhere? What is it we want from a cat? By “we,” I am not including myself, not because I don’t love cats, but because I wonder if I’ve truly loved anything. If I were a cat, I might ask how does one develop a love for me? We have that much in common. Maybe it is because the cat and I have that much in common explains why I could never love the cat.

How does one develop the student of social work? Is it because they are not a complete person? Or maybe a little bit more of an afterthought? Or less than a few people? Or insubordinate in the afternoon rather than the next day? What does one get from a student of social work that one person will become in the quiet car? What is it we want from the train to London? By “we,” I am not sure what I was meant to be but if “we” were to be free, there would probably be more than one person of consequence. That would truly be something. But I wonder if I have ever heard of the person. Heard of the person who was meant to be in love with the person who was meant to be with them. That does not happen very often. If I were a student of social work, or maybe a student of social security numbers, I might not even know what I would have to say about this place. Not because I don’t know how much I love the way you are I. That much we have in common. Maybe it is because the student of social work loves the way you can make your own decisions about how much you love to be a part of their life of course. That is something I had not heard of before.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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