The bus stops at the edge of town. Two feet step down onto the cracked pavement. Black leather shoes as shiny tar. Look up, see the suit, the shirt, the hair, the smile. The eyes. The eyes. The camera lingers there for longer than it should. But you can’t blame it. You could lose yourself in those eyes, you really could.
Even when the shot cuts away, showing him in miniature against the immensity of the landscape and the grand sweep of the town, as he disappears into the greyness and the murk where we all live, it’s those eyes you remember, those eyes that remain.
A thousand silent movies bloom in your mind.
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Notes:
1. Written on May 12th, 2021
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