Visceral | Jillene Stark
I saw a man walking down the path that goes into the canyon, who had looked like he might have been crying he stopped, sat down on a bench and just started to wail. I had been walking up the canyon for some exercise but this made me stop and stare at him, I didn't know what was wrong or even want to find out what was wrong I could only stare at this man. Society has told us men are supposed to be strong, but there he was just weeping and balling over something that I wasn’t even curious about. I was close enough to catch the color of his eyes, the water running through those eyes turned them into an emerald green. As I noticed his eyes he looked up at me wondering why I was not moving and just staring, but I was so entranced in his eyes I stayed and stared. He stared back and stopped his crying. We just stared at each other for a couple of minutes I soon realized what I was doing, apologized and kept on walking trying not to confront the matter at hand.
posted by Anonymous | 11:32 AM
3 Comments:
This is really kind of mind blowing. It really shows some kind of invisible boundary that you crossed and then had to apologize for. The fact that you got hung up on the eyes is exactly the kind of sick and wonderful thing that writers feel compelled to do.
What a weird experience. If I had been in that situation, I think I would have either just looked away and pretended not to notice, or I would have pried into his business to try and find a solution to the apparent problem. I admire you for being able to just share the connection for a bit.
I never really thought it crying as visceral, but from your description, it fits the definition perfectly. For some reason, it always seems so much worse for me when men cry. I don't know, it has always affected me more deeply. The situation you described was so clear in my mind, especially the color of his eyes. Extremely good post.
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