Phew! What a weekend. All that blog hopping tired me out. It's a good tired, though. Thanks to all who stopped by from Alex and Matt’s Pay It Forward blog fest. I’ve added many new blogs to my Dashboard roll and look forward to getting to know all of you. What an awesome way to give and receive the support that all of us need from time to time.
As a way to unwind, I’d like to share with you a flash mob video that my friend posted this weekend (thanks, Mare). Have you seen this yet? I’ve viewed it numerous times as I love Bolero. After my 4th viewing, my focus shifted away from the musicians and to the brief glimpses of the passersby who stopped to listen in the midst of their busy days. I couldn’t help wondering what the story behind each face might be and began to imagine them.
A couple with a young child in a stroller stop to listen. Where are they coming from. Are they tourists or do they live in the city? Why are they passing through the train station?
Her hair is pulled back tight into a bun. The only color visible, wrapped around her neck. She checks her phone. No email. Will Patrick come? She raises her eyes as the steady beat of a drummer is joined by the haunting melody of a flute. She could wait a bit longer.
Another woman, black jacket draped across her shoulders, walks by barely registering the monotonous sounds of the station. Her shift was supposed to end at 8:00 but her relief called in sick. This time claims of congestion. Short-handed again. How could she keep up this schedule? Her wrists are crossed as she huddles under her jacket. So cold. She glances over her shoulder as a familiar melody distracts her from her exhaustion. Her father loved Bolero.
Does anyone else have a story? Tell me about it.
I am late stopping by from the blogfest, but glad to have discovered your blog. I am a new follower. :)
ReplyDeleteNice to meet you, Murugi! Thanks for stopping by.
ReplyDeleteI love people watching, usually best over a nice hot chocolate and a cake! So much inspiration, how could we ever be stuck for stories.
ReplyDeleteSounds like you are a character writer! I love to hear character writers come up with stories for everyone around them! Me? I'm a plot writer first. I guess my thoughts go to fun in planning the whole thing.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing. I was entranced by the end of it. I love to sit in the subway and type away on my keyboard in the same way.
ReplyDeleteThat was beautiful. Actually brought tears to my eyes. Thanks so very much for sharing. I could make stories up all day about the people I see there.
ReplyDeleteHi Suzie, I've nominated your blog for an award. Check out my blog and pass it on!
ReplyDeleteOh, seriously this would be one of my secret fantasies, to be someplace where they do one of these. Love Bolero anyway, and it was the perfect song to slowly build up the orchestra.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for sharing this.
And you're right about everyone's got a story. If we'd only pay attention ...
Thanks for all the comments everyone! I'm so glad you enjoyed the video. I could listen to Bolero every day and not tire of it.
ReplyDeleteSorry for such a long stretch between blog posts. I've had to attend to some important real life situations this past week (and into next). Nothing bad, mind you, but my time and attention are/were mandatory. Thanks for stopping by!
Hope I'm not too late for the party!
ReplyDeleteI also LOVE Bolero! I first heard it in 1980, while watching (secretly on HBO) the movie "10" with Dudley Moore and Bo Derek. The movie, well, it was titillating because I was 12. The music, on the other hand, just stuck. I bought a second-hand album years later in a small shop in the Central West End, St. Louis, Missouri. Still have it. Will play it tonight, with all of its crackles and pops, for my kids.
My story...
~Isabel slumped on top of her daddy's shoulders. She was sleepy. And Mommy had said, "No", to pop-tarts for breakfast. She had green grapes instead. She doesn't like the green ones. It was early, too early, for her favorite store to open; the one with the little pink puppy that barks and wags its tail when you press the button on its belly.
Daddy stopped on number fifty-something. She was good at counting. Daddy said so. But she always got stuck on fifty. She was starting over from the beginning, a very good place to start, when a man with curly hair waved a stick in the air. Then she saw another man with a stick. He hit his drum with it. Isabel wanted a stick of her own. She wondered if the store with the puppy would give her one.
Then, she heard the violin. She forgot all about counting when she heard the violin.~