The sun is bearing down, but she has no chance to dab her hands against her cheeks and nose – her usual remedy against the spots of sweat and oil that abound in this heat. One hand firmly holds the purse and bag on her lap, while the other grips un-mercilessly to the back of the motorcycle.
She moves accordingly with the twists and turns of the ride. She watches the passerby children immersed in their football game – she catches the eye of the goalkeeper, his eyes widen at the sight of this dark, smiling apparition. She speeds by the men engaged in their discussions, their women puttering noisily around them.
The smell of the kebab stands pass over her and her world is temporarily obscured by the ensuing cloud of smoke. She catches her reflection at the top of the curve. Her eyes glisten – intoxicated on life. Her hair and the hem of her pink dress flutter in the wind, made cool by the swiftness of the ride.
In this moment, she is beautiful.
We are all.
1 comment:
Star, your writing is beautiful, and deep. This time it might be TOO deep for me. Who is "she"? Is she Star, a passenger on a motorcycle?
"In this moment, she is beautiful" -- if that is you, you are always beautiful.
"We all are?" Well, that depends. Many people would not agree, but I agree -- each and every person is precious and beautiful to God, and to all who love him or her. And a lot of people love you!
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