Candy cane chap stick he found between the cracks of the pavement was his ultimate find.
“Beauuuutiful.” He said, energy escaping through the pores of his skin.
Feathered almonds and chocolate covered fingertips and used up, whitened tires were good company to the new piece of shrine.
“Home sweet, talking to my sweet baby, home,” the words tripped out of his mouth like water over pebbles. A lot of his movement felt like water, so much fluidity and coolness. But he was also on fire, breathing fire, full of fire…
“Keep, keep moving!” He’d say to strangers, but not as a warning or threat. It was more like a philosophy he wanted to share, like splitting a double-Popsicle with a friend on the playground. The world was most definitely his playground—public spaces, of course, because people thought this man was a crazy of all sorts.
He never meant harm to anyone! He enjoyed finding treasures that others missed and loved worshiping our trash.
There is quite some beauty in that, don’t you think?