It's wicked to mock the afflicted

It was one of those rare perfect moments. I have seen a handful of them. Sometimes it’s easy. Standing before the Sagrada Familia at dusk, the cathedral dressed in long sharp shadows and the rich red stone of the sculpted façade humming in the low sunlight. How could one not recognize the flawlessness of that moment? Today was another one of those moments but it could have been easily missed had my mind distracted by the various concerns which everyday life gifts us. There was nothing obvious like an enormous modernist cathedral. It was just a perfect moment. I woke up early to return some library books. I dropped them off at a branch I had never been to. It was a gorgeous building. It had tall ceilings in which the sunlight shined. The morning air was fresh and full of the salt of the sea. Two tramps sat in front starting the day’s doing nothing with a can of MacEwan’s. They breathed smoke like two ancient and weary gods waiting to be forgotten. They spoke to each other in low grumbles with ever moving their lips. The city began to wake up. The traffic picked up. The bus stop queues lengthened. I recognize these things that happen every weekday but today was inexplicably different. I mused upon this as I walked when I saw before me a wedding party starting to gather in front of the Sikh temple. The men were dressed in sharp suits and fiery orange turbans. They sang and danced to a drum. The women filtered pass and entered the building. Each one in a solid coloured silk trimmed in brogue gold.