there is, (at least here there exists), in summer, a variety of tiny black fly who’s apparent purpose in life is to make a beeline for any moist bodily orifice. They’re incredibly annoying. So small, it hardly appears to have wings at all, a blur, a mote of dust almost – and yet relentless, no amount of waving and flapping will dissuade it from doing it’s utmost to pursue a watery grave by dissolving on your eye.
Which is, I understand, apropos of nothing.
Except perhaps that I admit that I don’t understand everything, or everybody’s, motivation.
Friends and colleagues can still take me utterly by surprise with seemingly random and unfathomable acts of selflessness and wild abandon in almost equal proportion.
Acquaintances I don’t expect to understand.....indeed I don’t particularly want to. I have neither the time or inclination to try to interpret the why’s and what fors of the chaotic jumble of characters who impinge on daily life while you’re simply trying to get on with it. Smiles, angry faces, politeness, unpleasantness even nuance all register, but don’t affect – maybe we all do this, I think we do, but I suspect many people are more sympathetic to their surroundings and it’s population than I am, they have more empathy.
But, when it comes to your friends or to people that you work with day in day out, one would think that even if they act in a way that appears out of character that one could at least fathom a motive upon further consideration?
Well, not so actually.
Quite who it was then that decided to coat the ear cuffs of my telephone head set in black marker pen ink will no doubt remain a mystery.
