The Gym is on the top of a building. The swimming pool outside and heated.
Steam rising from the water.
The air ice cold.
One is drawn into the warmth.
After a time the thought of getting out into the frigid night air and back in the gym is intimidating.
In that pause, that moment where one is reluctant to give way to discomfort, there is a chance for something to come forward into consciousness.

In the mind's eye is the blistering sand of the middle east, the steaming jungles of Southeast Asia, the morbid poverty of Haiti.
For an instant the profound difference is as if grief were a dark cloud of disparity passing through the heart.

The cloud passed again, later, while looking out the bus window at a homeless person trundling along as if the cloud of disparity lived in their heart.
A face was reflected in the bus window.
It was mine.