I watched an old man play Bejeweled
for the first time.
I peered through the gap in between the two airplane seats,
through half-closed eyelids,
as I drifted and lulled between consciousness
and a half-awake mind.
Like a voyeur peering through a window
into the human phenomenon of encounter and discovery,
As I watched,
His leathery hands wave over the touchscreen,
to commence, entranced with wonder.
Wrinkled fingers manoeuvred deftly,
guided by blind intuition,
and not
through his foreign eyes,
which saw not the language
but mere symbols and shapes.
They traced over the jewels
— blue blue orange —
down a column
to no avail,
-green green purple-
across a row
to no success.
And several more times,
to no gain.
I quietly wished for his realisation
of the goal
to reach the fabled
three-in-a-row.
I, breathe held, watched the subtle hints never seen,
the clues never noticed
and in the end,
the pattern never spotted.
But just as efficiently and gently did the fingers move,
Did they too, glide over to the menu
and so,
left the game.
Pointless,
and trophy-less.
Defeated but not forgotten.
My eyes rolled back into their shades,
and I pondered sadly
whether we learn slower,
and less as we age.
Oh, I lamented,
the futility to learn something
that didn’t bore no consequence
(twas just a game).
Or perhaps satisfaction
can be borne from the
knowing or unknowing,
the attempt and trial,
without no point in mind.
And of those benign minutes
of passed flight time:
It wasn’t so bad.
Background: written on a work trip from Shanghai to Hamburg, over the long leg of the flight. October 2024. I stared at that guy’s screen for far too long