alive with pleasure

this afternoon, in the beating heat of the afternoon sun I was walking back from picking up some things from Frank's house in Arica. a garbage bag with motorcross boots slung across one shoulder, my t-shirt gradually
wet from the gathering sweat; on the other shoulder, a hammock and sleeping mat in one of my envirosax bags. dust was sticking to my sweaty feet as my crocs scuffed along towards where I could get a collectivo (shared taxi) and some respite from the sun. as I approached the roundabout, i looked up and saw a guy coming towards me.

tufts of hair escaping out of a dirty baseball cap, dark brown leathered skin, and hands caked in concrete dust pushing an empty wheelbarrow. he had though, a sort of friendly grimace, and when I looked down to his shirt - I saw the following words:

alive with pleasure

it made me smile - such words, on such a person, in such a place. he probably has no idea what his shirt said, but yet he had that sort of smile on his face. for me, a moment to smile in an otherwise kind of sad day.