A MAN STOPPED TRAFFIC WITH HIS HANDS
Yesterday, while the sun shot its angry rays at my skin, a man stood a few feet to my right. His feet were firmly planted like a tree. I could tell his very presence commanded things, people. He proceeded to cross to the other side of the road, raised his hands and stopped the traffic. He moved with such alacrity, like a soldier. His strides alert, sure. With his back turned to me, his face remained a mystery.
His stance showed me a little something about life, how life must bow to his demands and desires, how he takes from life exactly what he wants unapologetically. There was no reason for the cars to stop. He was no traffic warden or uniformed official. Yet they stopped at the show of his formidable self.