They come out of nowhere and are over before you can even be sure they were real. And the only reason you know they were is because of the inexplicable effect that they leave behind.
It was his paint-covered jeans that first caught my eye. They seemed reminiscent of days when employment was still within reach and time could be afforded for a moment of creativity. But now it was all he could do to hold himself together long enough to make it till tomorrow.
Matted, unkempt curls fell to his shoulders, careless brown strands framing a purposeful, angular face. Considering his denim jeans, a stark statement of need rather than absence of fashion sense accounted for the additional denim jacket. He completed his look with a pair of pointy leather shoes that once upon a time must have cost someone a good deal. Then, somehow, they came to him.
His general air and attitude suggested that in a different age, he would probably have been recklessly protesting the onset of civil war, brought on by the regulations of an overly oppressive government. Given a worthy cause, he had enough idealism and determination to voice his opinion or die trying.
But not here.
And not now.
His amount of direction and passion in life seemed as unfamiliar now as the availability to enjoy basic hygiene.
It is amazing how many thoughts are able to fit within a moment of realization, because the next time I looked up he was greeting me with a generous smile. With his resolute face directed towards mine, he simply said, "Good morning."
I watched his receding figure, all decked out in dirty denim, and wondered if he knew he had just made my day.
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