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Have you ever read the polished floor? I read it every day when I see you. There are words on the polished floor, invisble to your eye, but I read them. Beyond a hidden world, there’s something there. I try to look out, but the words on the floor say, ‘No’. I say, ‘It’s not fair.’ The floor says, ‘Life’s not fair.’ I say, ‘Well I don’t care.’ The floor says, ‘You’re reading me, of course you care.’ Words on the polished floor: ‘Your isolation is your due, beyond this space, less of you; care and admire even more, but the polished floor, never ignore.’

Respect is an elusive thing. Probably sounds like a cliche, but it’s true. Trouble is, half the time you don’t notice it, until it disappears and you only notice dis-. But then, disrespect is an assumption thing. And assumption; that’s a dangerous thing.

See, Neuro did some reading, tried to understand; noticed markers of modesty, privacy and insulation. So, in response, his eyes cast down to read the polished floor. Eyes aside, the wall was grey, notice the grafitti, new since yesterday. Head bowed, he passed on by, hoped he never caught an eye. On assumption, he played respect, drove it home to avoid neglect. One day missed, it wouldn’t slip by, never would he view them through a stray, spying eye.

Assumptions of the right way: well he failed in that respect. Neglecting their assumptions, he continued to read the floor. Their assumptions said he was a spiteful kid, full of hate, holding bias in his pocket. The disrespectful, prejudiced type; a cliche born of their assumptions. Assuming ignorance, expected behaviour was unexpected from a Western kid in a Western world, and so the respect flew out the window.

See, respect is an ellusive thing, but half the time you’re plainly misunderstood. Respect twists into disrespect, and now the truth is buried. Like your eye, in the floor.