Yesterday I received on a little strip of neon paper, my declared fortune. Typed in bold Helvetica it read, "You can always find happiness at work on Friday." The week had passed along nicely. It was calm, yet eventful with people to catch up with and friends coming into town. Monday-Thursday had already been quite nice. What had I to look forward to Friday for. In fact, my weekend was going to be quite exciting. Plus the morning had seemed rather dreary. An off and on gray sky, and temperatures lower that the previous days, I was tempted to stay in, skip french class, and linger around until work arrived, where "happiness" would be found. Then I came across another bit of curious information. Something from Horace, 65-8 BC, "Cease to ask what the morrow will bring forth, and set down as gain each day that Fortune grants." With that, I got up and looked optimistically at the possibilities of what the afternoon may bring. Meeting with a friend from out of town, at moments we chatted like school-girls, discussed like philosophers, and laughed like mad over notions so silly I could hardly bring myself to type them in detail.
I realize that just going out and opening oneself to unexpectant circumstances can bring little fortunes as we wait for something we think is 'bigger.'
Like quick downpours embellished by a shout of thunder, followed by a cry from school-children in their courtyard.
Lunches unplanned, but quickly satisfied by a familiar street vendor. One of my favorite contrasts, lunch wrapped in paper with messy bites while trying to keep one's pose as a lady.
Somewhat familiar streets that have been walked on, but not nessecarily explored. Then coming across a little gallery. A collection of drawings and juvenile sculptures, quirky and controlled, yet curiously undefined.
I'm convinced, each day one can be granted Fortune.
Bisous,
Reba
Reba
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