Did you know that when you start looking for stories, they begin to appear all around you?
It’s true. They do.
First there’s the corner with the bench in the park in front of the public pool, where two latino men in their 60’s sit in front of a mural, scrolling through things you can’t see on their iphones. Certainly there’s a story in that. There are stories about the young man who walks half a block behind you, yelling to himself about only wanting to have fun for once in his life, why doesn’t anyone ever just let him have fun. That one is probably a tragedy. Another one is possibly there, but maybe not, when the woman who waits on the corner sees a car stop and gets in. There might even be one in that exchange you notice between the grocery store checkout clerk and the customer who wave at each other as he leaves.
Choosing between them becomes the problem. Do you watch the driver trying to park at midnight, not willing to give up on a spot that’s three inches smaller than his car? Or do you focus on the two-year-old fascinated by a piece of dyed silk, ten feet long and two feet above her head.