Kevin

Yesterday, I happened to run into one of my friends, Kevin, at the old watering hole. I was sinking into my thoughts at the time, and Kevin was just the person to haul me out. You see, Kevin is the best kind of companion anyone can have, bright and articulate, with a sunny disposition, and an audible voice. (Not many people have audible voices nowadays. They speak to themselves, not to anyone they think might want to hear what they have to say. [Which is, perhaps, not a bad thing.]. But what Kevin has to say is always interesting and never, never, not amusing.)

One of the things that interests me about people is the way they see the world they live in. No one sees the same thing in the same way. Our responses are all colored by our histories and our genes. I'm intrigued by what people can discover in the ordinary and what that discovery can become in the retelling.

I came upon this clip the other day. It's a wonderful example of an observation gone awry. A silent breakfast prepared by two English gents (Morecombe and Wise - geniuses, of course). They do in pantomime what Kevin can do in words.