There is something romantic
when it comes to vending machines. The frustration when your snack gets stuck, the shaking of the whole damn thing, rubbing your dollar along the side to get all the crinkles out, all to receive a simple aluminum bag of sugars and salts. A type of joy, a similarity to happiness and maybe a little victory when it comes to getting that highly valued snack.
There is something romantic when it comes to payphones. Nervously clutching your now warmed up coins, hoping they are enough to reach the person on the other end of the wire. The intimate moments that must have been shared clutching the phone so many others have held, kicking the phone book hanging there, in frustration, the scribbles on the metal walls of the urban Sistine Chapel, because that phone is a place of worship, of connection, joy, hate, love, answers to questions, and keepers of long forgotten secrets.
There is something romantic when it comes to taxis. Whistling and hollering for attention, running out into the road, hands flailing, flagging down your lifeboat in the pouring rain, in the scorching sun, in the heat of your thoughts. Chasing down the one you love, racing to the meeting you’re now late for, getting into the same cab as the one who becomes your best friend.
There is something magical about the world around you, stuffed with character and emotion.
Don’t ever lose your ability to see it.