Sometimes you are walking down the street or sitting in a waiting room, kitchen, office, bus, taxi or rainforest and you see an achingly beautiful woman walking towards you, so beautiful she can make you dizzy, like you have been drinking coke and whiskey all day. She smiles and makes you feel high because she is full of the single greatest commodity known to mankind, promise, promise of a better tomorrow, a better life, a great hope, and it’s all in her smile, her eyes, and in the way she makes every shitty little thing about life gleam with the hope that it is all going to be okay. Our lives at best are just a series of images, something from our childhood, first crush, first date, first kiss, first fuck, first child, and everything else is just commentary, it is irrelevant, unworthy, and we only know that the images, the moments, every sweet, languid, detail of it will live on forever.
And then she is gone, passed you straight by on the side of the street, and you mourn her loss with more grief then you would ever admit to. The question is what should you have done? Because you don’t judge by outcome or result, we never do. You judge by an ocean of other, less clearly defined things. She probably had a boyfriend or a girlfriend, a lover, a partner, someone, anyone but you. Under the circumstances that held at the time, what was the right thing to do? We say things like, you can’t just walk up to a complete stranger and tell them how beautiful you think they are, we can’t do that, we don’t do that, but it would be four hundred and forty four shades of fucking awesome if we did.