The Nine Faces of Dave
Yesterday I went running in the evening, instead of my usual
morning run. The sun was setting after a warm day, and the
sky was clear, letting the glow through to shine on all the
buildings down by the river.
The warm glow of the sunlight gave the city a very different
appearance from the morning gray I was so used to. A number
of the buildings by the river are housing projects, and in
the gray light of morning, they look like the last place I'd
want to live: drab, dingy, and unkempt.
The light changed all that, though. The projects still had
that low-income look, but there was something beneath that.
I could see the actual community housed in those walls; kids
playing soccer on the lawn, single mothers on welfare, even
families scraping by, making the best of what they had. The
crying children and other noises I was used to hearing every
morning were gone. The place seemed downright livable.
Downtown looked different, too. Before, I had seen the dirt
on the buildings, the filth in the river, and the chewed-up
gum spit out on the sidewalks. That wasn't gone, but other
aspects of the city shone through: architecture, clean air,
and a real sense that the city had been designed as a place
to live and work. Even the stench of the barbecue joint was
easier to take than before.
It was almost as if, through a literal interpretation, I was
able to understand an abstract, figurative concept.
I think now, I really understand what it means to see things
in a different light.
This is Dave, signing off.