(no subject)
The other day in a rural area, I stopped to make a u turn in front of a house. In the middle of my transition I spotted an old man, walking towards me on a long dirt road. It was a driveway actually, but it was so long you could not see the house at the end of it. It appeared he was in the middle of nowhere, but I realized he was on his way to the mailbox. He wore a brown tuxedo suit, and a cap. He inched very slowly with a cane, taking one step only every few seconds. It very well could have taken him an eternity to get the mail that afternoon. I felt I was intruding on another dimension of time. My tires had ground to a halt in the gravel, the gravel and rubber replaced by his quiet shuffling feet. The wind rustled quietly, the man placing one foot in front of the other on an endless road.