Two things about me: I don't like strangers. But I am polite. So I replied to him. It actually turned out to be a very interesting conversation. He told me all about his adventures. He's a drifter and hitchhikes all over the country. He squeegees windows to make money, although he used to pick berries in the Okanagan Valley. He told me about how there's an osprey living in the city that ate all of the goldfish out of the pond in the Public Gardens. And that one time he saw a sparrow hawk catch a grackle, but then four crows came and tried to steal it. This little tiny sparrow hawk held onto its dinner with one foot and fought off four great big crows with the other. He also told me about how once when he was in Banff, he was sleeping under a bridge, and this great big elk wandered over and woke him up by honking in his face. Very interesting man.
Anyway, so I carried on and met up with the rest of my class. Our assignment was to find a grave stone and write whatever story it inspired us to. The only caveat was that, since we've been studying temporality lately, there had to be at least one flashback. The grave I found was for two brothers. One had died in 1845, the other in 1847, both at the age of 8. That lent itself very nicely to story-making with a flashback.
I happened to finish at the same time as another girl in my class, so we walked back to campus together. I didn't know her at all before that, but we talked the whole time and she seemed very nice.
Also, fresh air and sunshine.
It was a good day.