Hi Mr.
My given name is Heavy Treason and I work at the Mitch Stills Library Parkade for the City of Whyte. My brain is plastic wrapped, and not with plastic but fog.
Recently, while talking to one of my senior co-workers we began talking about homeless men, homeless women, pissing con-artists.
Paradoxically, we recalled a future event, a parkade certainty, whereby, wild me, I find a whole shit deposit left behind by a vagrant, a varmint, a real bastard, that man that had his way, his body demanded satisfaction hours and hours after the meal. It might have been the sorriest day of disbelief. Remembering: Here whence came forward thrence patrince at the booth. They called --- I heeded. Wailing, I saw shit under the ledge dropped there, sat down the guy, left it for me. I hated the idea of cleaning it up. But in my head I shoveled it into a bag and never seen it again--- can I say this? My breath wasn't working, the whole time it stopped. I continued walking and haven't been able to forget this demonstrative prophesy since.
Friend, what you think about this? I'm sure I have no way of knowing. Is the future probable---is it mere probability?
1 comment:
Maybe it is a commentary for parkade life itself, mere probability, yes. But synchronistic nonetheless.
The other day I was biking on 102 ave and thinking of a girl I dated in the past and hadn't seen in a long time. Less than a minute or two earlier, she biked by me. It was pretty weird. This has happened to me quite a bit before in different ways, sometimes through dreams forecasting someone I'll see the next waking day.
These things make us think though, hey? If syncronicities are "God's" way of winking, She's doing a good job.
J
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