There's a man carrying a small stack of laundry and he doesn't seem to notice me. He is wearing a coal black jacket, a plain white t-shirt and dull grey shorts. He seems like he's in his underwear. He's like the two opposite seasons of the year in my opinion. His upper half is in the freezing cold winter and his bottom half is in the sweltering hot summer. He passes by me and the sounds of whistles and yelling swim coaches swarm around me as I walk.
I come out of Asphalt Green and I see some girls playing lacrosse. Why can't I understand this game? I ask myself. Well, whoever created me must have given me no knowledge of this game. My neighborhood has always made me wonder. I have tried to understand this game for years now, and I have played it once already, but I still don't understand it. I think that we were put on this earth with no knowledge but to cry if something went wrong and to smile or laugh if something had gone right or there was something good or nice happening.
On a bus, there is this...person. This person was sitting across from me. The weird thing is that I can't tell if this person is male or female! The person is reading a newspaper and the paper is in front of the only thing visible to my eyes to tell if the person male or female. The chest. I study this person and the first thing my eyes hit are the hands and arms. The arms are masculine, but the hands are lady-like. The middle finger on the person's right hand has a "ghetto- like" gold ring on it. The face is the scariest of all. It was half male, half female. I shudder when I think about it. I get off the bus still not knowing the person's identity.
That's my neighborhood for one day!