She effortlessly exudes a simple self awareness, an unassuming happiness. Actually, there is one piece of jewelry, a thin string of pearls. It lies quietly about her neck just reaching the collar bone to make two slight bumps before completing the circle. Occasionally, she will describe the shape of a pearl with all the animation and enthusiasm of a child explaining that no two snowflakes are alike. Midsentence midway, she will stop abruptly as if guilty of self-indulgence.
Light plays in the landscape of time.
There can be balance and harmony, but never symmetry. It is she. I sit up straight peering into the private hour of my companion. The light changes and the bus accelerates. As the engine roars, I think fleetingly it's acceleration we really want.