My eyes are left alone to gaze upon the stillness of stone. i drift my eyes upward, only by a small degree.
Black canvass moves rhythmically over the rubber of soles as he taps his foot to the gentle music. The legs of his jeans rest high on his ankles, allowing his black socks to reveal themselves a bit to me. Hello, they seem to whisper.
Her shoes are the red of the wall, shiny.
Abstract in their own, solid way.
A small child pitters along in tiny, striped rain boots. A plastic honey bee resides on the tips of the toes.
Her feet are average, nothing unusual or abnormal. Nothing but the simplicity of her feet, as they trod along in the basic comfort of black sandals, beckons for my attention.
Soft light dress the wooden chairs in many shades of overlapping shadows. The depth intrigues.
The deep grinding of espresso disrupts me from
my subtle fascination with the cold, hard ground.
My hand begins to write as my mind mulls over my new found observations.
I must write them down lest I lose the fresh aesthetic of these words.