Beauty
Written 05/28/18 on a bus ride from Milan to Freiburg
Four young, twenty-something women: chirping together in a sonorous German as we skirt around the lake. One is wearing loose beige trousers and a silk shirt. She sits half cross legged in her seat, hunched over writing in a notebook, hair hanging in liberal swathes of brunette to conceal her scribbles. The others are in t-shirts, tank tops, jeans and skirts, with hair drawn into golden buns or loose like the first. These three seem unoccupied physically, but follow their thoughts and the rushing scenery as it passes. Each woman embodies the lively stillness of a flower bouquet: twitches only visible to a microscope, yet invigorating the enclosed space with soft colours and fragrances; motions enough to spark keen but hidden attention down the porous central aisle. A dozen men’s eyes are cocked out the windows but their awareness cannot avoid the backs of these heads, with their bright unruly locks sending loose pollen of humorous discourse drifting back for all to enjoy. The journey is pleasant.
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