The chirping birds. It is spring. The sky today is exceptionally clear and the clouds are now seen only sporadic. The sun shines. She is so hot that the approximately 4-year-old girl over to the ice cream parlor is crying because her scoop of ice cream melted on her hand and her arm is to be found. The mother of the kids has already paid. She herself, unlike the older gentleman at the traffic light, because of his attention Humphrey the passing of his people's attention to himself, bought nothing. The limping gentleman, dressed in classic brown lose for a moment the attention of the people, but to the traffic lights to green and he shows with great effort on the other, on my side of the road, goes. With a sudden twitch
I have taken note of two young people whispering that start a few feet away from me laughing soon after. Both find the path of the old man laugh do it but do not let on. Behind them, a girl of about the pejorative view of the two young people to right across the street to the other side of the road running. She looked for a moment more mature and far more superior than the two now just grinning young people. That is the impression they got, however, when they removed a few yards from the traffic lights, ignore them and in red crosses the street.
The small, 4-year-old girl no longer cries. You no longer crying because her mother, who clearly annoyed, stressed and sweaty, the last few cents from her purse and scratched at her baby with a Coke to breastfeed. Successful.
all at once the breath of wind on my paper along the paper and can dissolve almost from my hands. Now I hear the leaves rustle on the trees. As soon as I had the pleasant soothing sound of the Leaves perceived, it was already over. I sit on the wooden bench in front of the tree. Shortly after, about seven birds fly almost fled from various trees. The two young people who laughed at the old limping gentleman who now sits about a meter right next to me on the bench, are hard to find. Suddenly gone. With the idea that both have probably made as soon as possible from the dust, I turn to the left side and see both just around the next house, the first road race. The wind blows stronger
. Once again I hear the leaves rustle on the trees. This time unberuhigend and slightly aggressive. I wonder why I am the old man right next to me does not help to lift its strong because of the wind on the ground fallen Basque beret. I give him no sight, but can see from the corner of his eye that he wants to do with an outstretched arm and attached to the cap, despairing face attention to me. I give him what surprises me even, no attention.
Suddenly I notice a shriek. Without turning, I was sure that the glass of the small 4-year-old girl on the street must be thrown down. The old man next to me still looks in despair, but has lowered his arm. He probably thinks that it is extremely was rude to an older, disabled Lord not to help raise his Basque beret from the ground. It's rude, that's true, but I prefer not consider to help him. I wonder why I'm still sitting here and not help him. But I do not have time to think. Once again, a sound that caused an annoying pulling on my ear. Again a scream. This time it was but the screech, but probably the squeal of car brakes. Although it is green for the motorist, but the girl who was a few minutes later across the street, now was invulnerable way back the same way on the other side of the street and been hit nearly detect. This time she's not been alone. Shortly
shoots me a thought in his head. Why I follow with everything, although I may not even want? With time, I realize that the perception of the environment has nothing to do with whether I like it or not. But how do I make my thoughts about things that I might actually be total care? Why do I see every detail of my surroundings, even if I put pressure on the back? Am I myself delivered in my thinking?
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