Thursday, March 17, 2005

Solitary dance

I looked across;

A woman in her mid-thirties was by the empty streets. Garbed in the most unattractive green vest, with probably only gloves to adorn her wrinkled hands, she began to sweep the floors with admirable diligence. The cars did not bother her, neither did she with the cars...nor anyone. No one to trip over her broom; nor stepped unto that collected pile of dust and falling leaves. The streets were her dance hall; its dim streetlamps cast a silhoutte over her crooked posture against its concrete floors. It was as though she was alone, yet; not quite...not quite. She began that solitary dance; her broom caressing the very ground her foot landed on and off. And as she made a dramatic swirl; her broom followed suit. Her grace came to a complete halt, and left her invisible audience mesmerised.

It is hard to fathom, how we; supposedly the wiser lot, could allow ourselves to be enraptured with that Mercedez Benz, that Escada dress, that Bvlgari watch, that high-paying job, that condominium overlooking the Twin Towers; and justify our worldly desires with nobility and dignity. Yet it is the sweeper; who wakes up at 4 every morning, who submits to the aloofness of the sleeping city, who sweeps the streets when no one could see, much less give her a standing ovation; does her work quietly and humbly, just so the next day; the streets were made pleasurable and tolerable for one to walk on.

Perhaps, it is only when we do not have a full understanding on nobility; that we may demonstrate the fullness of it.


Anonymous Micheal Jackson said...

Beautiful! Beautiful! I doubt u can capture on photograph such scene. it's just too, too glorious. Words will do, words will do. :)


12:12 PM  

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