A few days of sunny weather in the middle of the winter on the left coast gave an opportunity to walk around the city and enjoy the scenery. While reflective, the modesty of feeling like an outsider presents a fresh perspective on simple observations.

… I was close to the tail end of the daily walk. To get to the entrance of the building, where I temporarily live, I have to go through a long covered sidewalk with arches on the street side. I get to the sidewalk and I hear someone shouting “Carol, Carol, where are you?”. And he keeps repeating it. People who are simultaneously walking in both directions of the sidewalk are wondering and looking around as to who Carol is –since the guy is uncontrollably loud.

I get closer where the shouting comes from and I see this man maybe in his 30’s. Young but he looks old. He looked tired and wobbly. He has tears in his eyes and was carrying a few wore out stuff which could be heavy since he walked slumped over. For some off reason I felt like I knew him.

As we passed each other, we glanced at each other and he asked “Did you see Carol?”. I replied “No, who’s Carol?”. At this point, pretty much everyone around is staring at us and following this conversation as the man is so intensely loud and present:

He said “Carol, you know? I have been looking for her”

Me: “Who’s Carol. Is she your sister, wife, girlfriend?”

He replied “No, you don’t understand. Carol doesn’t exist”

Me: “Why are you calling her then?”

He said “I knew you wouldn’t understand. Carol doesn’t exist. Since last night, Carol doesn’t exist anymore…”

…and he walked away. It was the New Year’s day.