Metro encounters

Today, opposite me on the metro, there was a man with a vintage face. A big nose exploding from it, dominating the tucked in chin. He started reading a broadsheet, a rare thing on the metro. He seemed really to people a 19th century satire, and he could easily have been a Gogolian clerk.He smiled in a Mr Bean style as he read an article entitled 'Stariye Pyecni'(Old songs) and then at Park Pogedi, up he got officiously with his briefcase. He was wearinfg a pale pink shirt under a cricket jumper, in the English  chap style which is currently a little in fashion here.

I wondered in a previous blog if I might see the same people when I get the metro, which is always at disparate times of the day.

Recently, I remarked the same woman as I saw around two weeks ago. I think it was perhaps a couple of days after I went to the all night-party and was focussing on specific details as is easy to do when tired that I saw a woman who walked in a strange inhibited way. How I imagined chinese women who had their feet bound would walk. This time, I noticed the cause of her strange walk; oddly shaped white platform shoes sloping up at an angle.

 She wore a long skirt and a white shawl aroiund her head. and was carrying white carrier bags.

And , again, a third time, I saw the same frail woman in her cumbersome shoes walking out from the metro. I wonder has she ever seen me and what critique would she have made? If I climbed to the roof of the metro and looked down at myself what on earth would I see- a red beret, a blue alien hat or bright red bobble; that is my first disguise. Then, how do I walk - I think my wlak changes regularly depending on my destination(work, home, party?),  the time, how hungry I am and of course my mood. Sometime I run, sometimes I walk slow and heavy in my slow heavy boots designed to combat the snow.  And sometimes the stilettoed girls scurry faster than me across the metro, across the ice, like elegant incaustious spiders draped in fur and cosmetics.