All I remember of my encounter with the man at the crowded bus stop was a slight jostle- a quick touching of arms as I tried to shove myself past him and push my way into the bus. The air was hot, humid; I was running late for my dental appointment and the ache in my jaw had not subsided. The clouds were a dreary grey- the skies even more so- then again, when had my world not been painted in scales of black and white? A passing glance at the side mirror of the bus reveal two dark orbs floating in pools of white, high cheek bones accentuated by dark grey and a halo of black draped over my neck and shadowing the sides of my face. My face, glistening as beads of sweat run in rivulets due to the glare of the hot sun; ghostly against the backdrop of the blurring, throbbing crowd of ash.
All it took was that single moment. I cannot recall his face nor his profile- all I know is that he wore long sleeves of dark grey. Even now, I cannot be sure if that was the actual colour of his shirt, or if it was just my senses that were being deceived. How could I have known? Isolated, alone amidst a crowd of strangers, it would not occur to anyone to remember the faces of passing pedestrians.
As I took an infinitesimally small step forward, I felt my world blossom into being.
Bursts of colour sprung from my step. It started gradually, from the slow bleeding of the sun into my sneakers, to my horrendously mismatched, leaf-coloured pants, to the singlet matching the colour of the bus that I had shrugged on due to the hot day. As it spread, I was assaulted by a dizzying array of hues that I never knew existed before- what was the name of the shade that painted the sky? It was searingly brilliant- at the time I could not attribute a name to the beauty of the scene which struck me then. Only later did I learn that the shade was called azure blue- but within that moment I felt the beginnings of an awakening stir within me, and I turned back, hurriedly-
- to see nothing but a writhing mass of human bodies, blurred with colour. The shirt of dark grey had disappeared, dissolved effortlessly into the sea of human beings. A single drop in humanity that I had lost sight of, and could not begin to hope tracking down. As I stood, solitary, unmoving amidst the swirling colours that continued to morph, I felt a shuddering sense of loss and emptiness. The crowd surged forward, packing themselves tightly into the metal hulk of the bus whilst all I could do was stare at the last place I had seen him. As the bus lurched and began to move forward, my hope of meeting my soulmate dissipated like the black fumes of exhaust that trailed behind.
Despite the swathes of lavish hues that trumpeted before me, I was left pondering:
Why is it that the colour of tears do not change?
Bursts of colour sprung from my step. It started gradually, from the slow bleeding of the sun into my sneakers, to my horrendously mismatched, leaf-coloured pants, to the singlet matching the colour of the bus that I had shrugged on due to the hot day. As it spread, I was assaulted by a dizzying array of hues that I never knew existed before- what was the name of the shade that painted the sky? It was searingly brilliant- at the time I could not attribute a name to the beauty of the scene which struck me then. Only later did I learn that the shade was called azure blue- but within that moment I felt the beginnings of an awakening stir within me, and I turned back, hurriedly-
- to see nothing but a writhing mass of human bodies, blurred with colour. The shirt of dark grey had disappeared, dissolved effortlessly into the sea of human beings. A single drop in humanity that I had lost sight of, and could not begin to hope tracking down. As I stood, solitary, unmoving amidst the swirling colours that continued to morph, I felt a shuddering sense of loss and emptiness. The crowd surged forward, packing themselves tightly into the metal hulk of the bus whilst all I could do was stare at the last place I had seen him. As the bus lurched and began to move forward, my hope of meeting my soulmate dissipated like the black fumes of exhaust that trailed behind.
Despite the swathes of lavish hues that trumpeted before me, I was left pondering:
Why is it that the colour of tears do not change?
No comments :
Post a Comment