He’s skinny and old, shuffling along. He looks like he’s seen better days, but his dark brown face shines. I walk past him and he says, “When I grow up, I’m gonna get one just like you.” He’s laughing at his own joke.
I turn around and wave.
“You hear me? That’s right. Gonna get you in a kitchen.”
Now I’m laughing. “You don’t want me in your kitchen.”
“All you gotta do is boil water. It’s easy. That’s all I ask.”
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Do we all objectify, rather than relate?
I think the sidewalk is an objectifying context.