It is Motherfucking Cold
One of the great things about being in Seoul is that as a true city (and a place where foreigners are commonplace) random moments of human interaction are much more common. The intimate mix of strangers creates a bizarre mix of the personal and the private. And so it was tonight on the subway. I had gone down to 성남 to have dinner with ㅈ. I was decked out in my winter hat listing to Zadie Smith's novel _On Beauty_ (for the second time.) And a woman, in a group with another woman and a man, sat down sort of kittywampus from me, and caught my eye. I was always a late bloomer. Being in social situations was difficult for me until about halfway through university when I made a conscious decision to learn to be at least functional in social situations. So in movies and books I have always wondered about the moments when people catch each other's eyes from across the room and are able to understand each other. Something about those moments has always struck me as false, but for someone with my background in was hard to know if this was just a bias on my part.
So I am watching this woman. She is not stunningly beautiful; she really could not even be described as cute. Her long hair has streaks of a dark orange-red. There are piercings in most ever part of her ears including the triangular flap of cartilage that is propped up right at the opening to the canal. She is normal, random, ordinary and the friend that she is sitting with is not of those things. But I cannot see the friend, I can only see her and to me she is exceptional, special, extraordinary. I am watching her, studying her. And she sees me doing it. And I do not look away. And neither does she. The feeling was like communication via lightning. We both simply stared at each other and understood.
It lasted as long as it had to and I do not know what or who finally interrupted that moment but there was an intimacy exchanged that was ineffable. She continued messing around with her friends but it was hard for us to avoid the eye of the other. I could call her eyes to mine and we kept locking our gaze. There was, of course, a heavy sexual aspect to it, but one that would have been impossible to requite. This was probably the reason such a thing was possible. Everything was balanced on the moment of potential, and with nothing at all in common except that place at that time. Not a single syllable was exchanged. But none was needed.
So I am watching this woman. She is not stunningly beautiful; she really could not even be described as cute. Her long hair has streaks of a dark orange-red. There are piercings in most ever part of her ears including the triangular flap of cartilage that is propped up right at the opening to the canal. She is normal, random, ordinary and the friend that she is sitting with is not of those things. But I cannot see the friend, I can only see her and to me she is exceptional, special, extraordinary. I am watching her, studying her. And she sees me doing it. And I do not look away. And neither does she. The feeling was like communication via lightning. We both simply stared at each other and understood.
It lasted as long as it had to and I do not know what or who finally interrupted that moment but there was an intimacy exchanged that was ineffable. She continued messing around with her friends but it was hard for us to avoid the eye of the other. I could call her eyes to mine and we kept locking our gaze. There was, of course, a heavy sexual aspect to it, but one that would have been impossible to requite. This was probably the reason such a thing was possible. Everything was balanced on the moment of potential, and with nothing at all in common except that place at that time. Not a single syllable was exchanged. But none was needed.