(no subject)
Have you ever fallen for a Schroedinger stranger? A person whom you glance at, then glance again, intrigued, and imagine a dozen personalities for just in that moment?
An anxious-looking boy (tall, black velvet jacket, formal business wear, lank hair and large feet) caught me that way last night.
He moved out from a building in the queen street mall as I hurried towards a rendezvous. As his gait - unique -- but unique of whom? -- moved him beyond my orbit, I assessed him on what I saw. I noted his lank hair, his black velvet jacket, his hurried, askance gaze. His beautiful feet. businesslike briefcase and unusually oblong bag. I imagined a dozen presents and a hundred pasts for him; I debated with myself the provenance of his large feet, his boring business-wear, supplanted by the luscious jacket, combined with his worried look and lank black locks.
Later that evening (with unutterable quixotry) he turned up in the pub i'd run to. My acquaintance pointed him out to me on independent merits.
I told him of my obsession, the way I'd followed this big-footed fascinating boy for a score of steps.
My friend wanted to ask him to sit with us. I couldn't bear it.
It would collapse a million possibilities.
Not least of which, one in which I could be given the opportunity to skip, bewitchingly, from a building in front of him, with lank hair, a velvet coat and a hurried, askance gaze...
An anxious-looking boy (tall, black velvet jacket, formal business wear, lank hair and large feet) caught me that way last night.
He moved out from a building in the queen street mall as I hurried towards a rendezvous. As his gait - unique -- but unique of whom? -- moved him beyond my orbit, I assessed him on what I saw. I noted his lank hair, his black velvet jacket, his hurried, askance gaze. His beautiful feet. businesslike briefcase and unusually oblong bag. I imagined a dozen presents and a hundred pasts for him; I debated with myself the provenance of his large feet, his boring business-wear, supplanted by the luscious jacket, combined with his worried look and lank black locks.
Later that evening (with unutterable quixotry) he turned up in the pub i'd run to. My acquaintance pointed him out to me on independent merits.
I told him of my obsession, the way I'd followed this big-footed fascinating boy for a score of steps.
My friend wanted to ask him to sit with us. I couldn't bear it.
It would collapse a million possibilities.
Not least of which, one in which I could be given the opportunity to skip, bewitchingly, from a building in front of him, with lank hair, a velvet coat and a hurried, askance gaze...