Not Every Bench Is Just a Bench

One man sits on the same bench every day at the same time. It is his island of positive deviation in the flow of a muddy river.

Because he keeps coming back, he gradually becomes suspicious in the eyes of those around him. It is a strange paradox. He is not bothering anyone. He simply sits down. Yet that is exactly what the murky water finds unsettling.

The river bites into the island, washing against it and slowly taking away little pieces of its peace.

After a while, the islander is forced by the current to step back into the river from time to time, find another island, clean himself off, dry out, and begin the cycle again.

And yet, it would be enough to step onto the island, sit down beside him, and have a conversation. We might discover that the bench means nothing more to him than a simple sense of place — a bit of genius loci.

So be careful.

Not every bench is just a bench.