Huddled Masses

Huddled masses and and wretched refuse indeed. So many people, in the heat, often unwashed and / or oversized. The smell at times overwhelming.

The rude youth, a stereotypical "ghetto" man with a sense of style, calls to a friend on the sidewalk - loud, obnoxious.

Then, later... a woman gets on. No seats, the youth stands without hesitation.

Sometimes people are dirty. Sometimes they're clean. Sometimes they're rude, and sometimes kind.

But mostly? People are just people.

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The heat and smell and dirt created a strange contrast with the beautiful, serene blossom shreds falling to the ground.

I was reminded of the dichotomy of blood dripping off an ancestral blade on a background of sakura blooms - in the eastern style.

I contemplated the ways of the samurai - the words of Hagakure - "A samurai should make all his decisions in the space of seven breaths.".

When I got home, bolstered by my new resolve, I got only to six breaths... then I called her.