Plate racks and the recorded histories of past nights

When I was a child, someone told me that if you stretched out your palm to a gypsy lady on the Marina beach, she’d immediately be able to see your past written on it. The jagged lines would tell her about your tryst on the football field, and about boarding school. Her glassy brown eyes could see your crushes and secrets on the “heart line”. She’d have a premonition of any impending destiny by looking at your “life line”, your life span and wealth and “money line” and all that sort of stuff.

I sort of believed this was possible, because I was a child.

But sometimes it is possible to know someone’s past without actually having seen it, or been there with them.

Don’t believe me?

If you’ve ever walked past the plate rack on a Friday morning, and could still smell the fish from Thursday night, you probably know what I mean already.

The plate rack told you tales about the greasy beef from the previous night even when you were five feet away.

Just a walk through the area, and any gypsy lady could tell you about the bets from last night and the number of fishes one guy owed another.

Maybe we are all plate racks to gypsy ladies, and that’s why they know everything about us.


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