28. Tuesday Evening, Dundas West
Nov. 18th, 2010 07:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rossiHer dress is red, a splash of colour against the drab tile. A pair of high heeled shoes dangle from her hand by their straps; her feet are bare. Her blonde hair is piled atop her head, some strands escaping and her mouth is painted scarlet. She seems to be in a hurry and I wonder why. Is she running from or running to?
His hair flops over his glasses as he reads. He's a student, wool jacket over threadbare jeans. The book is on Shinto Meditation and it absorbs him fully. I wonder what he's looking for in those pages: the way to inner peace? A perspective on another way of life? Or perhaps just easily-impressed arts students?
The strains of an accordion greet me as I exit the stairs. The busier is a scruffy middle aged man wearing a dark t-shirt and khakis. The song is familiar, yet not, and then I realize he's playing Oasis. Rock in strange clothes. I drop some change in his hat and move on. The strains of Wonderwall follow me up the stairs.
It's just another Tuesday.
His hair flops over his glasses as he reads. He's a student, wool jacket over threadbare jeans. The book is on Shinto Meditation and it absorbs him fully. I wonder what he's looking for in those pages: the way to inner peace? A perspective on another way of life? Or perhaps just easily-impressed arts students?
The strains of an accordion greet me as I exit the stairs. The busier is a scruffy middle aged man wearing a dark t-shirt and khakis. The song is familiar, yet not, and then I realize he's playing Oasis. Rock in strange clothes. I drop some change in his hat and move on. The strains of Wonderwall follow me up the stairs.
It's just another Tuesday.
