The remarkable dullness of a city at the center of the world
The sky a subtle smear of grey. The pale azure of sunnier skies shyly peering through the breaks in cover. The air a soft, easy atmosphere. Breezes light enough to be almost none, though the leaves, proud in their new summer greenery, give away the movement of things invisible.
Nothing remarkable about this corner of our nation’s capital.
Nothing except the very dullness of this scene as the backdrop to the remarkable political play taking place around us.
Here lives dull familiarity amidst a sea change set of circumstances. Here the present anticipates its own history.
Crows cawing. Cars going. Shadows still.
Fashion: drab to preppy.
Architecture: predictable, but pretty.
People: interesting, but uncreative.
A man in his colorless pants and button down shirt hunched over his afternoon coffee and quiche. One hand on the fork, the other molded just so to cradle his telephone. Never a moment of stillness for him – a bite, an itch, a nervous knee, and the ever-twitchy thumb dancing over the screen of the telephone. A swig of coffee. A sniffle.
I look around. A blue button down. Two more. Low pumps, a careful gold necklace. A precise pony tail that says, I’m too busy for more. Uniformity. A stale air.
But oh my, the entire world orbits around this patch of boring. Oh my.