“…he’s a sensitive child,” was something i would hear when adults thought i was out of earshot or not paying attention to them. i was peculiar in that way that some children can be; quick to anger, easily embarrassed, happy and sad spikes, better alone than in a group. it would be easy to claim “not fitting in” as the cause of my sensitivity–anxious to be just like everyone else, but unable to quite figure out their rules. however even as an adult (at whatever age that happened, could be 8, 17, or 35) finding myself in a group of like-minded individuals, i still felt unusually sensitive to the possibilities of being in the wrong (group, answer, situation.) this may account for my theatricality, the brash, broad actions, the fearlessness (and the fear.) why am i sharing this with you? what about the photo of the bird of paradise in bloom prompted this confession?
too much blather that is inconsequential to the enjoyment of the moment.