The first ten minutes of my commute to work each morning are the most lively. There are children in my neighborhood who must attend the same school. Each morning, I see three or four of them ride past me with matching orange backpacks and an individual portrait printed on the front of each one. In one portrait, the child is posed with a tiny fist under his chin. As I round the corner of a side street that runs alongside a river, the street explodes with people. An old man in a wheel chair munches on a soft rice-filled bun, eyes glazed over from pure delight. Last week, I saw an older woman wearing a shirt that said, “Stop living for Friday” and it really struck a chord; I thought about this statement for the rest of my commute. I’m still trying to figure out what those men are selling in small plastic bags that line the sidewalk. It looks like watery blood. On the opposite side of the street, the fish aquarium market has exploded from one man selling koi fish in shallow buckets to about fifteen men selling small jars and plastic bags of tetras and goldfish. Orange and black speckle the sidewalk as I ride past.
Today, I saw a dead body. As I rounded the corner and made my way down that lively side street, I saw a crowd of at least a hundred people gathered along the river bank. I knew this couldn’t be good. The last time I saw a large crowd gathered, they were surrounding a dog who had been recently impaled by a metal rod. It was still alive. Have you ever witnessed something so unusual or horrific that you question whether you actually saw it? That’s how my brain processed the visual input of that dog. Getting back to the dead body. I slowed my scooter for a better look and scanned the part of the river where the eyes of onlookers had settled. I immediately spotted a hand in the water, dangling limply from rope tied to a row boat. Two plain-clothes men were onboard. Next, I saw the pink, green, orange, and blue striped shirt protruding slightly from the surface of the water. Khaki pants clung to his legs. His face was submerged, but I could tell it was a man by his build and clothing. I didn’t stick around to see if the two in the boat were going to tow him to shore or attempt to pull him into the boat. I paid careful attention to the road as I finished my commute.