Yesterday when I walked home from the commuter station, it was a Lockean evening, not John Lockean but Goldilockean: not too hot, not too cold, just right; and a neighbourhood boy jogged by towing his little brother on a skateboard. A woman with unguarded gray hair watered flowers, and as a man passed she called "want a shower?" before impishly flicking the garden hose so a jump rope of water rose and stray drops descended on him, making him turn to her and laugh like someone surprised by joy. Following, I renewed my vow to love God entirely every moment.
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If I Speak, But Have Not Respect
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