AT THE STOA

I walked around with and noticed that I drank at with And I waited for while looking at And I was happy that I was alone

It's raining again. I just came home after spending the morning running errands. The transactions at the banks I went to went faster than was possible, given that I usually spend half an hour minimum waiting for my pending number to be called. Today, however, by the time my pending ticket came out of the dispenser, I was served before I can even sit down. This might be because the usual clerk manning one counter wasn't there, the one who might as well serve customers once every five hours for all the dallying he does. His sweater, last time I saw him, said "Word." I will let his choice of wardrobe represent all the adjectives lining up in my mouth. After the refreshing absence of that clerk, I went to a restaurant where three grown men were sitting one table away from mine, talking about religion. Their conversation was suffused with the enthusiasm normally seen among men talking about their fighting cocks or the sorry state of the country and what should be done.