Yet Again

I do not know what they call the tree occupying the corner of the east lawn. It has a trunk that looks brown and has prominent wrinkles, It stands taller than the building nearby and has leaves that look too small for its size. i think they have a glossy surface. On a closer looks one finds that the branches colonize in their final stages, giving the tree the look of a conglomeration of overlapping leaf clusters that quiver with the sea breeze. It bears white frail flowers that keep falling all over the green lawn by the dozens and render the ground beneath the tree with a white aura. Sometimes, if I wait, I get to see a single flower falling from the highest branch, the fragile white thing spins around itself in mid air before resting on the green beneath the lawn.

Patrick

The other day I saw Patrick going against my stride. He wore a short and no shirt, his belly bulged out spilling over the waist button of his shorts, his breast had hair that was turning while and there were scars of some sort all over, as he pulled his short that kept slipping off as he walked one could see his arm rippling with sagging muscle covered with old skin and white hair. His eyes had a sack of skin below them, his cheek bones were prominent. As he passed me -without looking in my direction- asked me the time, at first it looked like he was rambling into the air, but his rambling was a question, and with no one but me around, it suggested that the question was for me, before I realized this he was a meter past me, and as I looked back in a state of mild confusion he was already saying "Don't worry, don't worry!", then he turned and walked away.