It happened again. I was participating in my daily walk. I had my headphones on. I had my ipod on. Tommy Guerro was jamming away. Then, I saw them approaching me: the Mormon Missionaries. Since I have brown skin, the cute men from Utah assumed I didn't speak English, so in their broken Spanish they began to ask me these questions:
1. Adónde vamos después de esta vida?
2. Cuál es el propósito de la vida?
I was just thinking about the shades of blue of blue in the sky and my washer (the knob is broken). I removed my headphones. I turned off my ipod. I smiled.
I smiled because even at my age, I still look like I need to be saved.
Saved from what?
I don't know. I don't care.
But it feels damn good to know that I still look dangerous, confused, empty, stupid......alive.
post edit: After reading canto de caza's comment, i was reminded of Aimee Mann's video (Thank you, sir):
Soy una taza, ¡un cucharón!
1 day ago