I have an amazing capacity to love. Today, I fell in love a few times, all while walking home from the subway.
1) Cute guy reading on the train, very serious, brow furrowed. His blacks didn't match but he had a great haircut, thus cancelling out the faux pas. The book was Persepolis 2.
2) Tall bearded guy in a wool trenchcoat and gorgeously tailored suit by the courthouse (lawyer?) who put a small white hotel washcloth on his head when it started raining to be a smartass, which made me laugh.
3) Earnest, angry emo kid in a striped sweater and Converse, a little too short for me but still respectfully checking me out. Go home and write a song about me, my little tormented artist.
4) 17-ish year old standing outside the comics store, angrily smoking while I stared in at the new display. I could see him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, perhaps confirming my gender to make sure that women really do like comic books. I smiled at him, and he thought about it for a second, then smiled back.
There was something very tender, very dear about each of them and I truly loved each of them for it. Which is silly and stupid, but it's thr truth nonetheless. I wish I didn't get so emotional, that I could, like a robot, only ponder emotion versus experience it. Being passionate gets me into trouble constantly.