Today, at the airport, I saw a most endearing sight. Just as I was about to get onto the moving walkway, I saw an old Indian couple in front of me. They were really old - hair fully greyed out, thick woollen sweaters, sneakers by Sketchers. As they were about to get into the moving walkway, they paused. The man held the lady’s hand and helped her onto it. For those entire hundred metres or so, he continued to hold her hand as she stood behind him gingerly looking around. He held it firmly as if the moving floor was in danger of slipping beneath his wife's feet. As if the laws of friction would magically disappear in the face of her aged fragility.
Always nice to read your writing. Also didn’t like Oppenheimer much. Much ado about nothing.