I am moved by a vast expanse of tenderness when I watch people, when I
them. Seeing our frailty, our basic goodness, our potential for sweetness. I saw a little boy yesterday, his head buried in his arms, leaning over the low wall in front of a school. He was weeping loudly, unselfconsciously. But as soon as I articulated the thought to myself, he swiftly and matter-of-factly ran his palms across his eyes and down his cheeks, marching away. Filters kick in. Or the fullness of emotion is spent.
What if we all wept openly and brazenly? Laughed loudly and without restraint? Skipped with exuberance and breathless wonder? Bellowed at the sky with rage and made scrunched-up faces so tight our cheeks burned? Pretended we were great big jungle monsters pretending to be human? Pretending to be human children?