First I closed my eyes.
There was a gentle breeze that lifted strands of hair from the scrunchy-bound tail
that I thought I created so tightly.
But not tightly enough I guess. (stupid hair)
One little strand tickled the side of my face with such strength and intensity that I was sure it had a life all its own. Oh tickley whisp! You brush, therefore I am!! Oh tickley whisp!! With you I can have no reverie...(brushes it aside)
Then I opened my eyes.
I’m sitting in the sun on the edge of the pillar(thing) next to the fountain, watching the shade creep in, and it too seemingly alive, an antiwhisp, so full of itself with its own shadows leaking out into the diminishing patches of sunkissed space.
Then I listened.
On top, a mix, a mélange of motors and engines and squeaky city bus brakes, parroted and echoed by the grating grating sound of metal, hark!, a pole being dragged across the concrete floor of the Square. Grating. Squeaking. Metal on Chalkboard.
And next a mix, a mélange of voices his and hers multiplied 300 times and contained within the outside inside, the indoors outdoors, of The Square. 300 pioneers! First a din and podge of sounds, tones, moods, RUMBLY and indistinct underneath the city sounds.
But slowly clarifying,
inching towards individuals: conversations, laughter, ideas, orations, arias. With rhythms tapped by the dance with the footbag.
And underneath again, and from where it comes as I sit there and notice it, I know not. I can’t tell. It:
The strains of a violin that waft from behind and over me.
And when I look, really look around, I see 300 voices. I see color, and light, and darkness. Sun and shade and shadows. Bodies moving, not moving, standing-sitting-laying, one SOLID mass 300_________________and then, just one.
From amid and among and in the midst of the sun and the shade and the light and the dark, of the mass and the sounds loud and soft, I see the one. I see her at that very second, in that very place, where she was meant to be seen. *How* she was meant to be seen.
My heart skips a beat, and I smile.
There was a gentle breeze that lifted strands of hair from the scrunchy-bound tail
that I thought I created so tightly.
But not tightly enough I guess. (stupid hair)
One little strand tickled the side of my face with such strength and intensity that I was sure it had a life all its own. Oh tickley whisp! You brush, therefore I am!! Oh tickley whisp!! With you I can have no reverie...(brushes it aside)
Then I opened my eyes.
I’m sitting in the sun on the edge of the pillar(thing) next to the fountain, watching the shade creep in, and it too seemingly alive, an antiwhisp, so full of itself with its own shadows leaking out into the diminishing patches of sunkissed space.
Then I listened.
On top, a mix, a mélange of motors and engines and squeaky city bus brakes, parroted and echoed by the grating grating sound of metal, hark!, a pole being dragged across the concrete floor of the Square. Grating. Squeaking. Metal on Chalkboard.
And next a mix, a mélange of voices his and hers multiplied 300 times and contained within the outside inside, the indoors outdoors, of The Square. 300 pioneers! First a din and podge of sounds, tones, moods, RUMBLY and indistinct underneath the city sounds.
But slowly clarifying,
inching towards individuals: conversations, laughter, ideas, orations, arias. With rhythms tapped by the dance with the footbag.
And underneath again, and from where it comes as I sit there and notice it, I know not. I can’t tell. It:
The strains of a violin that waft from behind and over me.
And when I look, really look around, I see 300 voices. I see color, and light, and darkness. Sun and shade and shadows. Bodies moving, not moving, standing-sitting-laying, one SOLID mass 300_________________and then, just one.
From amid and among and in the midst of the sun and the shade and the light and the dark, of the mass and the sounds loud and soft, I see the one. I see her at that very second, in that very place, where she was meant to be seen. *How* she was meant to be seen.
My heart skips a beat, and I smile.
posted by:
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Portland
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