Monday, November 29, 2010

Everything a pictures says

It’s just as well it should speak for itself I suppose for I haven’t the words for beautiful and all its synonyms somehow seems wanting.

Frederick Childe Hassam's Sonata

I met a fortune-teller on the train. She sat next to me and asked if she could look at my hand. I smiled politely and removed my glove without word and handed it to her. My callused gardener’s hand was a tad self-conscious being cradled there in her warm elegant palm. The fortune-teller did not seem to mind as she studied the lines of my hand, her brows knitted together in something like deep consideration then she said, “Great fortune, true love and happiness will find you in a very short time.” I thanked her and dug around in the pocket of my coat until I found the five that was meant for my coffee and gave it to her. She smile her gratitude, rose and wished me well.

A lovely week to you all,

1 comment:

  1. What very interesting trains you travel on, Simone. I usually have elbows in my ribs, and spilt coffee on my shoes.