Commuting

I am constantly looking to locate and decipher hidden beauty - at trees moving in the breeze, at patterns of light and shade, at random colors splattered on a wall or the decaying patterns caused by rust or the element... and of course I gaze at women.

I was on the train last night and there is a reasonably well dressed woman, maybe twenty six, across from me who just bought a new medium sized pocket book. She removed the plastic on the handles and placed her old bag in the shopping bag. It was so innocent and charming to see her examine the bag and the strap and the tag and to see her touch and pat the white leather lightly as if she did not believe she held it, owned it. Like a twelve year old boy with his first BB gun. Then she reached down and re-tied this little brown bow made of ribbon on the side of her pump.

She is somewhat adorable and as I write this I swear I am not trying to patronize her. Instead I witnessed a rare good dash of materialism coupled with innocent fastidiousness - quite refreshing on a late boring commuter train where most people are jaded or tired or beaten.

Quite different from a woman I sometimes sit across from on the morning train. All the times I have sat there she has never made any eye contact. As if I were transparent or a ghost. Very odd. I am not trying to be her friend, but it is hard to sit for fifty minutes at a time and pretend someone is not inches away. Both of us wear iPods.

She is on the train before me and always selects a seat with people facing her. By the time I get on that facing her is one of the few seats left. All odd and not charming.

Cold. I dislike cold people most of the time. So, guess not much to write about.