Weirdo on a train

I love watching weirdos do their weirdo things.

There was this girl on my usual train, maybe on her late twenties. She occupied a window seat, with her hands pressed around her ankles, and her head against the window. She had this look of pure wonder on her face.

She spent the entire journey like that, without once checking her phone or anything like that. Eventually she fell asleep, her messy brown hair cascading slightly on the seat behind her.

She got off at Rabat, walking like a cat trying not to be seen. A secretive, almost half shy smile on her face, as she sneaked off with the train wonders in her heart.

I instinctively recognized her as a fellow weirdo and loved her for it. I don’t meet many of those these days.

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Speaking of cats, let me talk to you about Sphinx, an old cat adopted by my old building complex. He was calm, quiet and detached, the way old cats often are, with spotless white fur and deep, lazy emerald eyes.

There was this older gentleman who happened to be my neighbour, maybe on his early fifties. Tall and slim, with the deep voice of someone who had been smoking for decades, and an outrageous moustache that looked like he was trying to cosplay Nietzsche.

Anyway, this guy almost never talks to anyone. He goes about his business with a dignified air, his grey eyes always distant. But, whenever he saw Sphinx, he would stop, look at him for a few seconds, then verbally greet him with a “Hello, cat.” He never fed him or tried to pet him, and he didn’t even call him by his name. He would simply acknowledge him as “cat”, and go on with his day.

To me, it felt like he didn’t see the cat as a pet or a lesser creature, but as an equal. He didn’t pander to him, nor did he disrespect him by invading his space and petting him.   

“Another image comes to mind: Nietzsche leaving his hotel in Turin. Seeing a horse and a coachman beating it with a whip, Nietzsche went up to the horse and, before the coachman’s very eyes, put his arms around the horse’s neck and burst into tears.

That took place in 1889, when Nietzsche, too, had removed himself from the world of people. In other words, it was at the time when his mental illness had just erupted. But for that very reason I feel his gesture has broad implications: Nietzsche was trying to apologize to the horse of Descartes. His lunacy (that is, his final break with mankind) began at the very moment he burst into tears over the horse.”

I think very fondly of Mr. Weirdo with a moustache. I wonder what he is up to these days.