The village of Sancha is clicking with life this bright blue day. Pony girls have buttoned themselves into lacy office bibs smelling of designer stores and fruit gloss. Clowns are pounding steel in their big blue pants, toward conscientious pedestrian safety (not a laughing matter). Drivers of noseless white trucks are whirring and beeping to the melody of ramen noodles at noon.
There was a time when I cynically referred to these daily characters as "zombie fish." Perhaps that was harsh. There happen to be exceptionally specific categories of dress and behavior on this island but behind each lacy bib there surely lies a complex and inconceivable human heart. From now on, that is where I am looking.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment