Pun Intended (or, "Some Thoughts on Bodily Fluids")

If frustration is unmet expectations, and contentment is the opposite of frustration, then I was contented to see four men peeing on the sidewalk on my way home from work yesterday.

Following that stream of thought (pun intended), last week I was in an underdeveloped marketplace around dinner time, so I found the least sketchy-looking eatery I could -- an Asian restaurant, creatively called The Asian Restaurant -- and sat down inside beside a large window to peruse the menu. As I did so, an Asian woman in a floral dress stood up from a nearby table, strode briskly outside through the front door, stopped just outside my window, and threw up.

I haven't pulled out my DSLR yet, and I felt it somehow cruel to try to take a picture of a vomiting woman, so this phone picture from one of my daily strolls will have to suffice. (Delhi, India; Jul 2017)

I watched with neither interest nor disinterest. I was not disinterested because I felt that I needed to see what was splashing onto the concrete -- noodles? Chicken Maii? Stir fry? -- so as to take special care to order something besides the regurgitated meal. Yet I was not interested because I feel it unbecoming to be interested in vomit. Indeed, life oozes paradoxes such as these, pun intended.