baggage's Diaryland Diary

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That Public Face Could Be My Private Noose

The spectre of Friday has arrived-and the cloudy gray blanket of air and mist outside the train window parallels the lightness of my mood.
I move from car to car determined to betray my groove (or is it a rut?) and sit in a different seat. Changing cars changes the view. One simple action and I'm surrounded unfamiliar faces--all potential fodder for my own mental tragicomedy.

The view blurs by in a parade of muted tones-silvers and blues-with the occasional rooftop providing a splash of bright maroon (or is that dark red? Or pink?)
I'm surrounded by light conversation. Families, spouses, work. And in front of me, a woman sleeps-or feigns the state; the blemishes on her beautiful face covered by layer upon opaque layer of makeup.
Her public face.
And I wonder-what does she really look like?
It feels good to be here.

3:32 p.m. - 2005-11-05

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