Two
tired faces in a compartment of a train. The old man lost in the many
stations of his life past; the young woman lost in the maze of the
provisory future.
A sudden jolt of the convoy brought their errant looks to briefly cross each other. Deep in jumbled private thoughts, it took a few seconds before both noted that they are walking on life's path entangled. The many accumulated years of his and the few years of hers both claimed to return to their individual space. Her face so young, smooth and fresh, seemed to smell of perfumed soap; and his was like a lined and creased treasure map with aroma of wood and rum.
A sudden jolt of the convoy brought their errant looks to briefly cross each other. Deep in jumbled private thoughts, it took a few seconds before both noted that they are walking on life's path entangled. The many accumulated years of his and the few years of hers both claimed to return to their individual space. Her face so young, smooth and fresh, seemed to smell of perfumed soap; and his was like a lined and creased treasure map with aroma of wood and rum.
He
took a second glimpse at the young woman and felt himself slipping from
that clean forehead all the way down the smooth checks like gliding in
the snow; and she ran down the hundreds of tiny footpaths and imagined
the countless trails of all sorts, each leading to something new and
different bestowed by life.
Another
jostle of the wagon woke them from each's construction of the other's
life. With self consciousness, or something like an apology for the
silent intrusion, they exchanged sort of an acknowledgement, sort of a
Goodbye, half like a Good-luck, then they both let go of their
imagination. They didn't look at each other again for the rest of the
journey.
They
never saw each other again. With the past of years, the old man will
die. The young woman would substitute smell of the perfumed soap with
the gradually thickening aroma of wood and rum. One day, two tired
faces will meet in a train, he, an adolescent with fresh and smooth
skin, carefree and innocent and she, an old lady.with wrinkled up face
like a creased map. She finally understood and quietly smiled at the
boy.
It's the Slide, the helter-skelter, disorderly side of an orderly life.
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