Change is strange, I think, walking brick by brick between the cars as the leaves tumble and scuttle in the warm wind and I understand why some call it “Fall”. Something new almost never comes without the departure of something old, and sometimes the two pieces don’t match up. Often, the process leaves a big hole with a small plug and all sorts of things drain out around the sides. It’s not like that this time. It’s not the reverse either. This time, it’s not the switching of plugs, but the switching of two things that can’t be compared. An apple and a gorilla. A toenail-clipping and the sound of thunder.
The gorilla and I are starting to understand each other, but sometimes he throws mud at me, and when I ask him why, he doesn’t have an answer. We’ll get there.