The Crowd

Walking down Swanston Street tonight I passed many of Melbourne's buskers, something that I always love. Street artists with chalk in hand, guitarists who do their best with their vocals but should probably just stick with the guitar, bare footed folk with drums and dances - all great. Tonight one particular busker stood out to me, except I couldn't tell you what he was playing or doing. What stood out was his basket for money. In it sat a metal bowl in which there was a lucky charm or something of the sort. Next to the bowl, in the basket, was a large novelty one hundred dollar note.

This set up of his basket stood out to me and I walked another block with my mind running around it. I then reached my destination and proceeded to get caught up in my own shit, getting lost in my own world. After I pulled myself away from such self serving thinking I made my way back down Swanston. On the footpath, about half a block from where this busker was, lied his one hundred dollar note. I began hypothesising what had happened for this man and his note in that hour or so that I was submerged in my own life.

Thinking over many possible hypotheses then lead me to think about this man's day. If something so significant (as I saw it) could happen in that particular hour than what could have his day been like?
And what about the rest of his world?
Where does he live?
What people surround him?
What are his thoughts like?
What about his emotions?
Where has he come from?
What things has he seen?
What is he yet to face?
When he dies, will he regret something?
Is he happy?
What about the hundreds of people that passed him as he busked?
And then there is the rest of the world.
Oh my! Millions of questions about millions of people!

Perhaps this is what my Psych meant by 'obsessive thinking' when he prescribed me some new meds to combat them. But you know what? I want to know about the millions of people! I want to hear their stories, I don't want my only focus to be my life and the people that surrounds me's lives. I want to know why this busker placed this fake one hundred dollar note in his basket and what his thoughts were when he did it. I want to know the answers to all the questions that flooded my mind as a result of seeing his basket.