he wore a jacket that screamed for attention. and he was tall. and striking. and strangely familiar. and we were just talking about him...
his jacket was a turquoise and black plaid with a hood. I have never seen another like it and it caught my eye. I'd spent all afternoon watching Project Runway, so fabrics and fashion felt like a visual assualt.
he was tall, but also taller thanks to these clunky boots which were exotic because they must be expensive and therefore not seen often round these parts.
his hair was mostly white. Not gray, white. And yet, he had a moustache that was peppered, almost like he'd gotten it dirty while drinking a hot chocolate to stay warm.
a third look still could not solve the mystery of who he was. I just know so many people in so many different contexts. damn people.
I caught his eye several times until I realized I was looking at Bill Murray. Less than ten feet away from me, he was nonchalantly milling around the entrance of a gift shop at the Lincoln Park Zoo in the Lion House.
I didn't know what to do. I'd just declared not one hour before that he was one of my favorite comedians to give credibility to funny guys doing serious roles in movies. We decided that comedians make the best actors because they have more of a range, and he is the king of that ability. And there he was. Should I talk to him? Tell him that I love his work? Tell him that he has provided me with endless hours of entertainment?
I let him be. He has family here; the two women he was with looked like they might be family. I noticed someone taking his picture in a very sly way, as if they were just pointing their digital camera in his general direction. His eyes scanned the room constantly, he saw the camera, he looked at me, and there was a panic there that made me sad.
Why do we take the things and people we love most and destroy them with our need to preserve everything?
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