Or there’s an exception to every rule.
Normally I am the first to complain about the graffiti that seems to cover any available space or blank wall here in Geneva.
However, one, up in my village, has had me thinking over the months that it has been on an electrical box where I tend to park every morning near the post office and bakery where I have my coffee.
It doesn’t proclaim (as is usually the case) “Be Happy”, nor exhort me to happiness: no frills, nothing but a crudely handwritten phrase requesting, nay perhaps supplicating me:
“Please be happy”.
Was it written by an elementary school child; a troubled teen; a frustrated young adult? I will probably never know – and can only hope that whoever wrote it has been able to find happiness for his or her self, that whatever burden led them to supplicate passersby to “please” be happy has since resolved itself.
If only I could let them know that his/her plea found an echo in my mind and that each day when faced with this request, I do stop and think and try to be happy.