Beauty Lines

A few friends and I found this woman, all four feet of her, basking in the sun at an outdoor cafe. I got the impression that she would sit there in that same sunny spot every day, since the waiters seemed to treat her as part of the furniture. I also don't believe sun block is, nor was it ever, a part of her repertoire before beginning her daily baking session.

She sat there fiddling with her few small belongings that she kept in a weather worn plastic shopping bag; over and over again, with her pale bony fingers she would take her things out, drop them under her seat and place them back into the tired plastic satchel that she treated like a designer purse. Her actions and appearance were those of a a frail old lady that had, quite frankly, lost her marbles; she was lathered in lost and found apparel and she had a collection of rings and shawls that garnished her tiny frame. But little did we know that once she was spoken to this ancient looking woman could go on for hours cracking juvenile jokes. She told personal tales, some that were believable and others that seemed more like fantasies that she had convinced herself really happened; nonetheless she went on, and we listened.

One of the best parts about coming across a new place is coming across new people. Whether they are wacky or captivating, intelligent or witty, they each leave impressions on us, their own special beauty marks.