25: I don’t have time for tourists. I’m not talking about the huge volumes of people visiting my city, by the way. But actually, while we are on the subject, let’s talk about how much I don’t love the Picadilly line between Green Park and Holborn. it’s a stretch of time and space where real Londoners vacate the tube in favour of walking, and the tube carriages are filled with backpacks and binoculars. And when I say filled,  mean filled. 

Anyway back to my life lesson.

There are people-tourists in this small world, who collect faces and stories as frivolously as it pleases them. They are not interested in the depth of your soul, just the height of your entertainment appeal. The great philosopher Ron Swanson said,

“He’s a tourist. He vacations in people’s lives, takes pictures, puts them in his scrapbook, and moves on. All he’s interested in are stories… he’s selfish.”

To these people, there’s a limit to your usefulness to them, and once this limit is reached, they’re all but helpless to hide it.

I think genuine people are responsible for what they know. They aren’t collectors, they’re curators. They’re sharers and carers. Wisdom.

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