On Sitting and Not Doing

I am sitting, and not doing.

As I sit I'm taking in the world, and am finding a strange growing fondness. Not like the one I express or discuss. 

This comes from watching. 

The world turning. 

Sitting and wondering.

It fills me with questions and a desire to ask people them.

I watched a lady walk across the parking lot, and thought about how long it took her. I wonder more things about her life (therefore does she have more patience? Or do others have to have more with her? Was she teaching a class or taking one? Is she married? What stories does she have to tell?).

I watched a shadow fade all the way across-and-gone the huge satellite dish. 

I watched as someone went into a building. Looking at her almost a little too long.

It is strange how the look people give me makes me feel like what I am doing is not valid. I fight this inside and the wind aids me in my debate.

I thought about history as an African American and a white elderly lady professor strolled the same sidewalk.

Oh, I already saw him pass.

My arms have become cool from the breeze and shade. They feel nice against my warm hands, but I don't want to spoil it and make them warm so I wont touch them.

I notice that a sign reading "science" is a part of science at this moment, shrinking with the setting of the sun, even ever so slightly. There must also be things moving around and growing on it.

Even though everyone has muscles, they look so different on different people.

As time of doing too quickly returns I stand and ready to leave. Extending my arms I stretch out my skin, made new and freshened by the gaining of awe and wonder.

I've sat and not done long enough for others to start wondering.