It was bitter cold when I walked to work this morning. I pulled my scarf out from under my collar and held it up against my nose. When my fingertips grew cold I pushed my mittened hand into the pocket of my coat. Before I ventured out this evening, I pulled my headband down and wrapped my pashmina twice across my face so that only my eyes showed. I breathed cold air in through my scarf and warm air out. But the only problem was that I was wearing my glasses today, which steamed up when I breathed out.
I walked carefully along the sidewalk. Halos hung in the sky, their centers pierced by streetlights and headlamps. Figures appeared before me like ghosts from miasma: a shadow and a suggestion of legs. When I was almost home, I stopped beneath the bridge. Five or six boys were skateboarding in t-shirts and bare arms. I stood and listened to them shout to each other, listened to the slapping of the wheels against the asphalt. A fire engine and a police car pushed past, their sirens a call-and-response in the night. Ensconced in my wool and qiviut and pashmina, I watched them as if through glass. The light changed, and I walked across the street.
I walked carefully along the sidewalk. Halos hung in the sky, their centers pierced by streetlights and headlamps. Figures appeared before me like ghosts from miasma: a shadow and a suggestion of legs. When I was almost home, I stopped beneath the bridge. Five or six boys were skateboarding in t-shirts and bare arms. I stood and listened to them shout to each other, listened to the slapping of the wheels against the asphalt. A fire engine and a police car pushed past, their sirens a call-and-response in the night. Ensconced in my wool and qiviut and pashmina, I watched them as if through glass. The light changed, and I walked across the street.
1 comment:
Great blog! I am loving your photographs and writings and how well they go together! I hope you'll check out my blog Me You Us and contribute something!
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