This was probably the twitter of 19th century. This device had a rolling paper in which one could attach a message by dropping a coin. The message would be rolling and visible for 2 hours.
Many of these were installed in public squares where people would fix time of meetings. And in case somebody had to leave they could leave the message hoping that the intended person shows up within 2 hours.
I was trying to understand what is the most effective way to empathize with a fellow living being. I thought I could experiment by trying to empathize with a street dog abandoned in bandstand (bandstand looks like people's fav place to abandon their dogs). And I felt that I can feel maximum for that dog if I actually step in his shoes, see the world from his eye level, feel cornered and feel the wetness of the rain, be hungry and wonder where is my home from where I was thrown off. I almost became him briefly in my thoughts and I felt scared, lost and worried.
Tuning into someone else's consciousness (taking in steady stream of input from his/her assumed environment ) just opened up a new dimension for me. For a brief moment I was him. I was an animal on the street and had all his pains. And then I tried empathizing with a traffic signal beggar and I stayed with her a little longer too long past driving my car.
It just felt weird to abandon myself and be someone else even if in mind. But again for some reason after this experience I feel way more connected to this world.
I had a pretty happy perfect kind of childhood. There was laughter, fun, warmth and a great feeling of security growing up.
I remember my mom was super hygiene conscious and wouldn't let us eat roadside food at all. In those days (I must be around 5-6 years old) we used to live in vizag and going to the beach was a regular Sunday activity. On beach side along the shore there were carta that used to sell lovely pomfret fry that used to smell really good. My mom obviously was not very keen about we eating that- 'Outside food that too fish fry!'
However I remember one evening dad took me and my brother for a walk along the shore. My mom was probably near our shoes and other stuff.
There we stopped at a stall and my dad bought us spicy pomfret fry. And I and my brother knew it was rare and we might never get to eat it again so we both devoured it faster than the guy could supply the next fish. And we went back quietly as if we never ate anything.
Today years later, on a cold day, while watching the sea, the memories of that evening came flooding by - bringing a faint smile and a familiar warmth.