walking on telegraph today, in the rain, with my boots on, i walked by this flower store and stopped. so suddenly, actually that the man behind me walked straight into me and awkwardly said "oh." we exchanged silly looks and then he walked on. but i stayed--firmly planted in the awe of the line, ever-increasing, oustide this flower shop. people (mostly men, as you see) avidly lining up with urgency to simply buy something for their lover--their date, their person whom they'll kiss on this day of artificial splendour and call the moment their own.
but flower or no flower, st.valentine's day, with all of its urgency to love and be loved simply and clearly marks a day that only indicates the absence of such a practice of love in our everyday lives. that we must fill one day to the brim with 24hours of hyper love is to me the antithesis of actually living it and in it. and so, i stopped--on the street, in the rain, in my green rubber boots with a small heel that makes me feel pretty, amidst the sounds of accumulating puddles and purchases and felt far away--a separateness occurring amongst the varietals of flowers-- the sterility of the cans in which they were housed, the hands gently plucking them-- holding the stems ensconced in ribbon, tied quickly but firmly, as they walked toward their someone somewhere off in the graying distance of the day.
