Honeycomb
Yesterday I went downtown to take pictures. I wasn’t really feeling it, but wanted to get out anyway. I parked along the waterfront in Seattle near the cruise terminal. Immediately after getting out of the car I noticed a bunch of gulls hovering in the air at the end of a public pier. With my bird photography background, this was an obvious destination. I walked over to find just a couple people there. One an observer, the other was someone feeding the gulls. A man whose face I couldn’t see sitting in a chair covered with bags—a backpack with a sleeping roll in it. Walmart bags on each shoulder. A hoodie covering his head. He was reaching into a paper bag here he had a loaf of bread. He was taking pieces of the bread, breaking it up into crumbs and tossing them out to the gulls. I took a few photos of the birds and, as he ran out of bread, the other observer and the gulls slowly dispersed, I heard him say “it’s first ship of the year.” I figured he was referring to the cruise ship so I nodded and made some small talk about it. Usually this is where I’d wander off.
This time though, we struck up a longer conversation. This man, “Honeycomb” he calls himself, turned out to be one of the most amazing encounters I’ve had. He was the embodiment of being in love with the world. His eyes were full of curiosity and appreciation for everything. He’d been in Seattle for 3 days, having been gone from home 11 months walking the 1200 miles from San Diego. He told me about deciding to make the trek, promising his family he’d write, then setting off on his adventure. He had stories walking along narrow cliffside roads with breathtaking views in California, about sleeping near seals and having deer walk right by him as he lay in the grass.
He told me that he was living his dream and that I could do the same. He said I could do and be whatever I wanted, that the world was there for the taking. We talked about life, spontaneity, joy, and love. His optimism and excitement were contagious. His conversation was both fascinating and generous. In the end, as we shook hands, he pulled me in for a long hug. As I walked away he was telling me to go photograph the world, to travel, become a professional, and that if we met again, that he’d love to come with me—“I’d could carry your stuff!” The rest of the afternoon I walked around feeling the wonderment of the chance encounter and the joy of having been able to make a connection with an amazing and beautiful person.
