Waiting is almost a forever word.
Often, when I wait for something, I immediately draw images from the lines that I’ve stood. I draw in the smells, and senses that have created a room filled with layers, colors, and visuals that either hold you closer or keep you at a far distance.
And there I am.
Waiting until the next person nods, to incite a nod from the person in front of him; which, if you haven’t guessed, will eventually cause me to nod in a cool effort to keep the rhythm well oiled and lubricated.
So, I’ve learned to see waiting as a rhythm of sort. A pace that keeps track of how people interact, feel, and see one another. Waiting is a style that allows us to flow through one another, and not at one another.
So, I’m waiting. I’ll wait until I need to stop waiting.
…or at least until my foot stop tapping.