Surfaces

I was at this street corner twice yesterday. Once on my way out and again when I returned. Alone both times.

What caught my attention here was man who was painting a driveway to a hotel. It was a small circular driveway. He was on his hands and knees, laboring to fill every crevice of cemented stone and shell that he could.

The instrument that he used seemed inappropriate for the task at hand. It was a brush in the form of a small artificially haired broom. He pasted on the color reverently. The handle of the broom short. Quite short compared to his average height. This meant he was hunched over as he painted. Almost buckled over, knees bent and all.

It was a bright lime green that he was using. A green that meant GO. It was slowly covering a basecoat of Clorets green. The difference in shade was minimal. But he kept on.

On returning to the same corner I remembered something significant of this spot. Not knowing exactly what it was, I kept on walking. Head in the air I geared down to a slower gait.

I remembered what it was when my attention was diverted by two men hanging over the driveway of the freshly painted driveway. They watched me step across the greenbelt.

I left them 3 dusty foot prints. Leftovers of my waddle, while I wondered where I was and why it was important.