Perched Above It All

From my perch seven stories above Monument Square, I can look down and see a lot of people walking by. There are pretty girls and students and businessmen (and women) and contractors and laborers and merchants and homeless people and tourists and politicians and mental patients flailing their arms and talking to themselves, newscasters and farmers and cops and just about every kind of people you can imagine in a small city. And one of the things I notice is how “marked” and broken so many people are. They’re limping, and using canes, and being helped by others, and riding in wheelchairs and using walkers and bent over and hobbling and taking mincing, tentative baby steps. Sometimes I feel lucky-- very lucky.