Layers
Layers.
You look at someone and you see their wavy hair catching that blowing breeze, their hands folding up a newspaper, that necklace bearing their zodiac sign, their skin colour, the way their eyes shift focus from one object to the next on the underground, or their choice of clothing that morning. And you craft a tale. She's borderline 30's...quite beautiful, but then again with that expensive suit you assume she makes enough to maintain her beauty. That glint of a tan must mean she's just returning from a nice holiday where she was sprawled on sandy shores basking in the sun and relishing in its goodness...afforded by her hefty salary, of course. Yes, she must have been dealt the good hand while others like me have to grind their way through life only to earn a miserly third of what she has in life. Ah well, you think to yourself as you get off at your stop, a girl can dream of making it in life someday...
Layers.
She straightens her pantsuit and purses her lips as she gets another glance from a stranger on the underground. She was told not to speak to anyone on the underground and, although it goes against her nature, she knew she needed to listen, and so she did. Why is she staring? The pantsuit covers all the burns and cigarette buds that burnt against her skin. She chose her outfits carefully now after that scare she caused at dinner in the fancy restaurant the other night ; no more kids staring, pointing fingers, or scurrying away in tears to their families. It was nice to be outside among other people who all seemed to be rushing about their busy lives. It would have been perfect had that woman not started staring and making her feel like her whole body with its scars was exposed. It was like she was perforating her mind, extracting her memories, and reading them like an open book. She shuddered and folded her arms revealing a bit of brown skin on her arms.
Layers.
It's excruciatingly difficult to peel a human being's layers before passing our judgement on their character, but make that effort....take the time to strike up a conversation with a stranger, let them tell you their story and immerse yourself in its mystic mysteries. I've learnt that strangers often have the most intriguing of tales to tell and I often found my kindred spirit in one of them. Take a leap of faith on a stranger and peel their layers.
You look at someone and you see their wavy hair catching that blowing breeze, their hands folding up a newspaper, that necklace bearing their zodiac sign, their skin colour, the way their eyes shift focus from one object to the next on the underground, or their choice of clothing that morning. And you craft a tale. She's borderline 30's...quite beautiful, but then again with that expensive suit you assume she makes enough to maintain her beauty. That glint of a tan must mean she's just returning from a nice holiday where she was sprawled on sandy shores basking in the sun and relishing in its goodness...afforded by her hefty salary, of course. Yes, she must have been dealt the good hand while others like me have to grind their way through life only to earn a miserly third of what she has in life. Ah well, you think to yourself as you get off at your stop, a girl can dream of making it in life someday...
Layers.
She straightens her pantsuit and purses her lips as she gets another glance from a stranger on the underground. She was told not to speak to anyone on the underground and, although it goes against her nature, she knew she needed to listen, and so she did. Why is she staring? The pantsuit covers all the burns and cigarette buds that burnt against her skin. She chose her outfits carefully now after that scare she caused at dinner in the fancy restaurant the other night ; no more kids staring, pointing fingers, or scurrying away in tears to their families. It was nice to be outside among other people who all seemed to be rushing about their busy lives. It would have been perfect had that woman not started staring and making her feel like her whole body with its scars was exposed. It was like she was perforating her mind, extracting her memories, and reading them like an open book. She shuddered and folded her arms revealing a bit of brown skin on her arms.
Layers.
It's excruciatingly difficult to peel a human being's layers before passing our judgement on their character, but make that effort....take the time to strike up a conversation with a stranger, let them tell you their story and immerse yourself in its mystic mysteries. I've learnt that strangers often have the most intriguing of tales to tell and I often found my kindred spirit in one of them. Take a leap of faith on a stranger and peel their layers.
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