When I just looked at the dozen pictures I snapped yesterday — searching for a common theme — the word “territory” came to mind.
There’s Doug, still thriving and happy in his territory. While I was at Mazda Gallery yesterday (in the territory of the Automile, Massachusetts, USA), Doug’s co-workers (not pictured) told me that Doug (1) graduated college as a chemical engineer before he found his career territory, (2) has sold cars to generations within territorial families, and (3) is the most awesome of salespeople (which agreed with the territory of my past experiences with Doug).
I didn’t recognize Doug when I first saw him, yesterday, because
- He used to have more hair in the territory of his head and upper lip and
- I didn’t assume he would still be in the same territory, so many years after he sold me my current car.
After I drove the 40-or-so miles back to my home territory, four more photos became my territory:
Before I leave for the territory of my work as a group and individual therapist, I need to choose some music that fits the territory of “Territory.”
When I test-drove a Mazda yesterday in Doug’s territory, the radio was tuned to the territory of country music, which I changed to the territory of classical music.
That’s a performance of a concerto J. S. Bach wrote about the territory of Brandenburg (which you can find here, in YouTube territory).
Territorial thanks to Bach, Harley, Oscar, Doug, my beloved 2007 Mazda (which might eventually become the territory of my 17-year-old son Aaron), Michael (for cooking us omelets in the territory of our kitchen), all the territories I visited yesterday and you — of course! — no matter what territory you’re inhabiting, here and now.