Appearances

I’ve started carrying around a “messenger” bag. A handsome black number I picked up at one of the superstores. It travels with me everywhere I go, slung around my neck with the black strap resting just above my right collarbone. I don’t particularly have any important documents to tote so I’ll typically toss in a sandwich, my camera, and an empty notepad. Everyone I know keeps asking me: “ So, what’s with the man-purse?” And I smile, more like a half-smile really, and patiently reply: “ It’s called a messenger bag.” The other day my little sister followed this statement with another question: “ Well what’s your message?”

I was at a loss for words. The answer is I truthfully don’t know.

Perhaps this thusly explains why my notepad still sits untouched neatly packed away in my bag on the floor next to my feet. However, some might argue, the absence of writing could be a message unto itself.