I walk past an iron fence downtown, with a girl bent over it, doubled. Huh. What's she doing? There's another girl with her hand raised in an arc over her head, moving
langorously across a building wall beneath the stone windowframe. Hmm.
Dance, i guess. And further back in the lot, a third is making
airy passes on tiptoe across the grass below a tree. Dance, for sure. Are they
practicing or
performing? I am too
shy to stay and watch, but walk on. I wonder what they are thinking of the
audience, or lack thereof, as most people passing don't even seem to see them at all. Do they want us to watch? Or do they want privacy in public, and are challenging us to know which is which? I pick the safe choice, and everyone else does too.
It's a narrow lot, it and these thoughts pass quickly. The thin pale red-headed girl at the corner looks too tired for me to believe. No one is smiling. I smile at anyone i can.