Note
Musings may contain typos, grammatical errors, rough ideas and weak arguments
I’m thinking about all the public toilets I’ve ever been in and how most of them had little scribblings on the wall of people’s names. Some were an effort to be remembered, “Emeka was here” while some were a way to tell what they deeply felt, such as “I love Julia”.
Names on walls show how badly we want to be seen and not forgotten. I read names on walls and think about the type of person they might have been; if they’re happy where they are and if they remember the little mark they left on a wall somewhere.
Of course, I can only see the names on the wall and never know their stories. Who they were before and who they are now, but names on the wall give us something to think about, whether we’re just passing by or enclosed in a toilet taking the fattest shit of our lives.