I sat down in a Gent café yesterday and realized I could have any beer under the rainbow. But my body said “No alcohol”. So I ordered a ginger beer.

The fellow at the next table and I got talking. I sense that he wouldn’t want me to share his name, and I’ll respect that.

He mumbled a lot. I had to lean forward and open my ears wide to get the gist of his words.

And yet … I wanted to know.

He was smoking a cigar. The air was still on the terrace and a cloud of smoke hung above us. Not good for this pair of lungs.

And yet … I wanted to be close.

He offered to play some music for me – a piano piece that he had composed. I was enjoying the quiet of the street.

And yet … I wanted to listen.

I hated the music. It was dreary, written in a minor key with only the occasional glimpse of a melody. I thought of remaining silent in response.

And yet … I shared my dislike with him. Without an edge. Just a soft statement of my truth. He seemed unfazed.

His words were so negative, critical of someone or something. “They’re bad” was hanging in the mist above us.

And yet … I wanted to learn of another human being’s experience of life.

He got up, gathered his bags and turned to leave. “Goodbye,” he said. > “Enjoy your day.” > “That’s impossible.”

And yet … there was a smile on my lips. Mysteriously he and I were connected in the depths of our being.