I on You

A girl with pink and black hair often crosses from D’olier street to College Green/Pearse Street with a gracefully equine (or so it seems to me - not everyone admires how horses walk like I do) gait at approximately 8:55 am on a weekday. I know this empirically thanks to the coupled phenomena of traffic lights and a routine. I also know that a woman of unmissably large frame who invariably wears black, rides her big (also black) bicycle with a basket on the front, down Lord Edward Street closer to 9:00 at least most weekdays. I also happen to know that she is on her way to the fifth floor of Trinity College Usher Library and that she plans on 'sshhh-ing' anyone who plans on communicating verbally while she’s up there. Furthermore, if such communications are not ceased (by sshhh-ing) I also know that she will (and has before) contact a security person because they can be more persuasive with their keys that rattle and their clunky shoes.

One of the interesting things for me about my awareness of certain aspects of the routines of these (to name but two) individuals, is that were I to speak to them, I'm quite sure that neither would say they have ever laid eyes on me (insofar as they could remember anyway) - and in the latter case, I'd have to say I'm quite happy to keep it that way.

Have you ever walked up to someone and said, "I've been seeing you around so often, I thought I'd come and say hello," and have them respond as if you had just landed from outerspace and greeted them in Klingon? I know someone told me that this happened to them but I can't remember who it was - which leads us to suppose that they are not very instantly striking or engaging and it's not much wonder that this sad story is their's.

So think about that (how does being didactic suit me?). There are people watching and thinking about you and you don't know they exist. Maybe a man, maybe a woman, maybe even a monkey...