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all power corrupts, but we need electricity.29.12.09we observe,right on the sidewalk, a cardboard box, that might have once been the home to lots of styrofoam, now transformed into a booth open for business. a modest brick ranch sits behind it, curtains drawn but the windows wide open. in the booth, a girl practices greeting customers to her slender shadow. she then tapes a beige piece of paper to the front of the box, words scribbled in smudged purple marker: "The Apology Booth. free apologies, friends and enemies, strangers and foreigners, anyone who longs to hear the words 'i'm sorry' or 'my apologies, please'." what has she to be sorry for? nothing in particular, perhaps everything. is she sincere? you can never be sure. perhaps she just has so many apologies to give and she knows they are often given away so thoughtlessly. half the time, people forget they ever apologized, ever even received an apology by the end of the day. why not offer some to the entire neighborhood then? they're sure to remember, when they're spoken from behind a cardboard box named The Apology Booth by a young girl and her purple marker. we observe, her first customer, the next door neighbor, the one who lives in the blue house to the right. he has just dismissed himself from yard work. grass stains make up for the absence of pockets on his denim overalls. he half-smiles at the girl in The Apology Booth. "good morning, sir," the girl says. she smiles at him. "may i offer you an apology?" the old man, still half-smiling, says with coy bewilderment, "um, okay." "i'm sorry that the weather was bad yesterday and that it rained all day and left your yard all muddy. i'm sorry that you have not gotten around to getting yourself a new pair of overalls, with pockets. i'm sorry your flowerbed failed this spring. i hope the blossoms are resting in peace, i hope they live forever in the earth." there is silence, but the sincerity that came with the girl's voice has just begun to settle in. it is such shocking sincerity, and perhaps the neighbor is just at a lost of words. his half-smile is gone, but he doesn't look stunned. he looks indifferent. he finally gives a gruff all-right-then and then gets back to work. the girl looks content. we observe, a passerby flaunting a frisky terrier on a glittery pink leash. judging by the sudden smell of dog feigned by fresh cherries in the air, the terrier had just been groomed. the passerby, on other hand, looks defeated and exhausted. bags balloon shadows under her eyes, and her hair looks greasy and scruffy. with interest piqued by mere instinct, she stops at The Apology Booth, the terrier walking in place, eager to move on. "um," she says, yawning. the girl interprets this as a signal to start apologizing. "i'm sorry that times have been rough and that you're still getting dragged along. i don't know you, ma'am, but i do wish you and your dog luck. my apologies, please. go home and get some rest." the terrier yelps, jerks at the leash violently, and the woman is off. the girl smiles on. we observe, a mother pushing along a blue stroller. her eyes are red. if we look more closely at her, we may find that the sunlight is turning teardrops to gold on her cheeks. in the stroller, a baby boy sleeps. but again, if we look closely, we will find that nothing is sleeping soundly at all. shadows toss and turn on a ruffled baby blanket, a pantomime of nightmares. there is a blue teddy bear by the pillow and a prayer card situated between the teddy bear's warm paws. we can't make out what it says, but it seems to have come from the hospital. we know that the little boy is not sleeping. not in the stroller at least, not even in the earth. the woman pushing the stroller is looking down, moving slowly past The Apology Booth. she's avoiding locking gazes with anyone. she doesn't want their judgment, their grief, their pity. "i'm sorry, ma'am... -" the girl looks down at her feet and realizes that she had forgotten something. we observe, a glass jar labeled in smudged purple marker: "The Forgiveness Jar. forgiveness is appreciated." lying on the grass, in the shadow of the cardboard box. |
infinity&beyond
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