Enter Downtown Crossing, pass a panhandler constantly, aggressively ringing cup with change. End by passing a Salvation Army bell ringer doing, essentially, exactly the same thing. In between is an aggrieved man, in the center of an intersection, with a baseball cap, puffy jacket and a white mustache who’s holding a book — a Bible? — and yelling, with no one listening, although three cops walk past, eyeing him in a friendly but jocular way.
“The day you become comfortable with moral corruption in your life,” the man yells, “is a sad day.”
Sometimes it astounds me how meaningful and meaningless things seem simultaneously, with random occurrences suggesting patterns and the most pointed of statements saying, ultimately, absolutely nothing.
And now, sushi.