Klyment.com - Journal

I ran into an old schoolmate while boxing day shopping. Matthew had been in my grade six class. He remembered me after I told him my name and when he told me his full name I certainly remembered him. It seems like his most vivid memory of me was me kicking him in the back at a schoolmate's birthday party. In retrospect, I was probably invited because the host felt bad for leaving me out as the only grade six student in the class that wouldn't be invited.

So many things to say
to someone in so many ways
the wrong person any day
but this.

Noone is right
to accept what I might
say without a fight
any other day.

Knowing what is true
but unsure of what to do
I'm being torn in two
so may we fight.

A song plays in my mind
my heart it can't leave behind
exit it may never find
only way is through

"So, what do you do for work," asks the tall man in an overcoat and fedora as I wait with him to cross the street.

"I shoot people," I reply, realizing the ambiguity of the remark but failing to elaborate as I was curious to see the inquirer's response.

"So do I," says the tall man, "so do I. And what do you do for fun?"

"I shoot people," I reply again, not satisfied with the tall man's response.

"You're a photographer," the tall man accuses. Then he offers, "I enjoy spending time with my family. I have a wife, a son, and a daughter all of whom I love dearly. I never see enough of them."

"A loaded reply," I observe. "Few have the opportunity of doing only what they want to do for both work and play and I am one of those who were blessed with the privilege. Yet I envy you for I have no one whom to love more than my work."

Another man beckons and the tall man crosses. I stall and do not follow. Soon after, I begin walking back to the studio from which I had emerged not fifteen minutes ago.