What should I do when an insolent stranger with a cellphone talks at me and acts like I’m not there? I want to kill them, but understand that is “taboo” here in America, even if the insolent stranger deserves it!
When was it now? On a cloudy afternoon, I had gone to a museum in Ueno to see an exhibition of early Meiji-era culture. I moved methodically from room to room until I came to the final display: engravings dating back to the period. In front of glass-enclosed shelves stood an elderly gentleman, looking at worn copper-block etchings.
It is August 10th in Chicago, early evening, humid, warm. The street at this moment is quiet, but just around the corner, people are walking, eating their pizza, driving their cars. It is a moment like any other. No one expects anything to happen. It’s Chicago—home of the Bears.
After we had gone through a revolving door, we stood on the still-lit sidewalk crowded with pedestrians. I like revolving doors because of the silent negotiation with the person on the inside if you are outside, or vice versa, about when we put our bodies in.