| I put on John's sweater, and I knew what it was like to be John.
I walked around a bit, found one of his butts in the ashtray and smoked
it, and I thought, "Wouldn't it be great if everybody could understand
each other so easily?"
I didn't mean 'know' each other, for that's impossible for anyone to really do. Understanding: that's the best we can hope for in friendship. It doesn't mean agreement, for we often agree to disagree. It doesn't even mean love, for we often hate each other, fighting like schoolyard boys. I put on John's sweater because I was cold, and I ended up knowing what it was like to be John. Not because I wanted to be like John; or even because I wanted to know what it was like to be like John, because I didn't really exactly learn this either, even though earlier I said I did. I only learned about John because somehow I had learned about myself, and if there was anything that I had overlooked, any defect, John was quick to tell me. And as best I could, I listened to him. For when he talked about himself, he was talking about me; and when he talked about me, I knew that he was talking about himself and the rest of the whole world for that matter. For when you start learning about yourself, and about John; you start to learn about many other people, too.
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