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EARTH ANGELS & MAGIC MOMENTS
“No!”
“Pity. A unique story helps.”
Silence.
“Don’t worry. Your purpose is in there
somewhere.”
More Silence.
“And if it isn’t?”
“Everyone has one. It’s part of being human.”
Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” blasted from
roadside speakers. Whoosh! Cheers! Bellagio fountains
erupted. Six-thirty.
“What’s your purpose?” Mature voice now.
Presence. Gravitas. Maybe I misjudged the age.
Watching the fountains, listening to MJ, I felt lucky.
Flashback to finding my own purpose. Walking one
day. Asking myself, ‘What have I really been doing my
whole life?’
Picture in my head. Ten years old. School corridor.
Teacher trying to explain fractions. Nobody got it. So I
piped up, “Fractions are like pizza slices! Eight slices.
You eat two? That’s two-eighths, or one-quarter!”
Teacher made me stand in the corridor. “Nicky
Boothman! I told you not to do that!”
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