Crossing Lafayette at Walker, an old man who didn't so much walk as trot. Tiny steady high steps like a dressage horse. He was in a hurry. Clothes a ragged bundle of brown and gray. Face streaked, and hair a mane. He looked apocalyptic. I felt I might have gone back in time. It was more like a dream of an encounter than the real thing. As we passed - and this was the gesture that made me doubt the year completely - he tipped his hat.
3 comments:
Too cool, I loved reading this! Cheers to that guy, it almost makes me want to go out and buy a hat to start tipping it at women.
I think you crossed paths with a ghost! :)
Yes, maybe I did. It was the strangest encounter.
Go for it, Marty - I think hat-tipping might work in your favor!
Post a Comment