The ordinary work of a morning

Before the visitor arrives

Chairs are being set outside and a delivery is waiting by a doorway. A shutter rises. A cloth passes over a table. The city is becoming ready for people who may never see this part of the morning.

A human story might begin with that difference. It should continue with a real conversation, carefully recorded, rather than assumptions about what a stranger thinks.

Asking, then listening

The visitor has questions, but the morning does not owe her its attention. She waits for a pause, and asks whether there is time to talk. A conversation begins with that small courtesy, before it begins with a story.

Another person’s story

The notebook can hold what she saw. It cannot hold what someone else thought unless they choose to tell her. That is the difference between looking at a person and listening to one.