I love the peacefulness of the city in the early morning almost as much as I enjoy the frantic energy in the city at lunch time. In the early morning, the buildings are silent. The people few and far between. It feels calm. I feel the peace of my spirit settle into a writing meditation that will prepare me for a productive day.
It’s not a silent place. There is the hum of car tires on asphalt, the chirping of a few sparrows seeking crumbs, the flutter of pigeon wings, the animated voice of the homeless with closed woman talking into the world. She sounds garbled possibly the result of being toothless, possibly because she speaks a language of her own creation to imaginary friends.
Is she one of society’s children abandoned by the masses or one choosing to live a life of independence albeit on the streets? If not for an accident of birth, we could be in each other’s shoes. I could be homeless and she working in industry. An accident of birth, perhaps, scripted by the hand of destiny?
The infinite mysteries of this life we live never cease to amaze me.