June 5, 6-7 pm
Juneway Terrace Beach
“Can I have another one? Whaddaya mean I can’t have another one! All I wanted is a Hug!”
This man makes no sense. It could be the alcohol, it could be his rage, it could be simple misunderstanding.
Clearly he wants to understand, to be understood, or communicate with us in some way, he just doesn’t know how.
Faced with us, unmoving, and not playing according to his rules, he struts around the park, and interacts with us in the ways he does know.
He takes a flier and brings it to his friends. He walks around the block and tells a woman on the street about what we are doing. His vibe is creepy and forceful. My heart goes out to him. I don’t think Aurora shares this sentiment. We are two heads and hearts joined in a common search for understanding. Something had shifted in him.
At first, the memory of this Hug is entirely pivoted on his theatrics. But then other memories begin to flood. I remember the little girl, who, shy and accompanied by her mothers hand, looked up with curious eyes. Her little brother followed shortly after, accompanied by the same mothers hand and his stare absorbed us blankly. The couple who held us both in their arms, and smiled so big, and claimed us beautiful. And Carol McCurdy, who took pictures, invited us up for tea and gave us warm clothes for the damp evening that followed.