Loose vegetation, pockets of stones.

Music in the park the other day, and when I was walking through a crowd of vendors I ran into someone I know. She introduced me to her twins, who each offered to slap my hand. And almost the very first thing they did was to share some of their watermelon slushie drinks. This is something which does not cease, it keeps in my thoughts.

I am unsure of the contours of sharing. This past weekend, and for the third time, some thieves climbed inside my car. My wallet was taken, along with the change in the console which all must have added up to twelve dollars. I try towards a political outlook that does not mind this, except for the task of replacing all my cards which would be of no use to anyone but me. When I've lost a winter hat or mittens, I consider it fine that someone who needs that thing will be able to make use of it. But I also had a fat old iPod that was taken, one that I've had for seven, maybe eight years. It's something I would use every day, a thing I have carried across continents and through my most exhaustive growths and losses and changes of circumstance. I have little worry about money, about accumulating belongings and the curious security that some deep furniture gives. Thievery is only a problem because of extra-material investments that people give to the objects that surround them, both in their want to have and their want to keep. But I would not have given away a thing that I carried in my pockets for so many years, and I wonder if that shapes me a thief. There is a song on that iPod with the lyrics "Things are looking up," which are loud and burst with the song's music. I have never known what the song is called. Someone I have known would shout its lyrics out loudly while we roamed about in their parents' van, and would tell me that they were only doing so for me. I knew, and said that I know, and I know, and I wonder now if I am a thief, not for taking but for wanting to keep.

I could not share what is behind that. It is something beyond, and suddenly an object that, when so invested, turns and shines as an idea. Now, these two new people shared with me their drink, they shared what they had to give, and maybe here that's all there is.