Nothing exciting ever happens on my side of the fence but as of lately there has been a series of criminal activity.
I go outside to the courtyard at my apartment complex because my doctor recommends I at least get 20-30 minutes of sunlight everyday.
As I sit quietly minding my own business, playing on my phone, one of my neighbors, an elderly man, starts chatting with me. We exchange pleasantries and then he fills me in on all the neighborhood gossip.
He seems nice. He doesn’t say anything rude or disrespectful to make me feel uncomfortable.
He begins with telling me his life story and how he found God, then he tells me how the staff and management have started locking the exits in the laundry room (which are the only handicap accessible exits leading to the courtyard) because of vandalisms and tresspassing.
He had mentioned a surveillance camera had been stolen from the laundry room not too long ago, cars being vandalized and unwanted visitors after midnight.
I asked him why noone has tried to call the cops “Well“he says “por que estos huercos son bien cabrones.” Which loosely translates to “because these kids are real fuckers.”
He was telling me how one day some one had poked holes in all four of his tires, thrown a brick through his windshield and had kicked in the door to his apartment. “You got to be careful con estos cabrones or they will get you too. “¿Me entiendes? wachaté” he says. He was telling me to watch my back or more so to be safe. He bids me good day and goes on his merry way but before he leaves he hands me his business card and tells me he does a lot of volunteer work so if I ever need anything to call or write him.
One day as I was sitting outside, he comes up to me again and starts chatting me up. He seemed a little upset asking me “How come you haven’t wrote met yet?” via email or Facebook I’m assuming. Then he proceeds to tell me how it would be so much easier and how he was too afraid to talk out in the open. He seemed a little paranoid. “That’s why I gave you my card so we could talk better.” As I understood there’s a lot of information he knows that they don’t want him to have and that’s why they tried to break in. He would rather communicate via social media for fear of getting caught talking to the neighbors.
He was in a bit of a hurry to leave somewhere so I didn’t get a chance to tell him I had lost his card while I was cleaning my apartment and since I’m not in the habbit of asking people for their personal info… He left kind of disappointed.
Today as I was getting my daily dose of vitamin D I saw him. He refused to talk to me.
As an artist and a physically disabled person, I have a lot of random thoughts. Some are nonsensical and some are
quite depressing. Here is one of them
Dying time – The time period or frame in which is utilized to make amends and finish any business or tie up any loose ends while here on earth so as to be able leave in peace.