Sometimes as I'm walking near the road I avert my gaze from its usual residence - eye level or thereabouts, or attention grabbing things within a metre or two either side of that. I might raise my head to the heavens or take a moment longer to examine something I normally walk straight by, or glance at thoughtlessly. I make no apology for that. I gotta say, it's really worth it. Walking through life is a little like struggling to keep sleepy eyelids open. Your eye's view or your mind's eye's view struggles (or accepts) getting more narrowed, restricted, blinkered. It's normal, it's comfortable, it just kinda happens. But the inescapable truth is that you end up missing out on a lot. Course, you can never catch it all, but that's not my point. Averting my eyes is only a small thing, but it feels like a victory. Good to be with you.
I saw this when I peered out of a room in the Masonic Centre. You can't really make it out, but take my word for it - that's a black and white striped bikini top. As far as I could tell there was no easy access to this space, something my mentor tended to agree with me about. Chuckle and that versatile signifier, a shake of the head.
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