A gaunt man wearing a fur hat and beat up blue parka twiddles his thumbs on a Sunday morning in Central Park.

A casual observer would ask: “Well isn’t there a chess game he could be playing right now? I mean, who twiddles his thumbs these days anyway? Is he counting the number of twiddles? How many twiddles are possible in a minute? How long has he been twiddling? Maybe he twiddled here last night and kept twiddling straight through to the dawn. God, I’ve been standing here observing this man, and I’m afraid to go up and ask him what his deal is.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s