There Is Not Much Else to Be Said

Two or three new faces materialize out of the lurid morning. Actually one not so new. The one that I call "Newsboy." The other is an older woman with long straight black hair. The third is a young man in his late twenties with brown styled hair. All three do not move a muscle except for the reaction to the occasional bump and turn of the bus itself. Newsboy is usually found with a pair of retro-looking covering-the-entire-ear headphones replete with brass-wire exoskeleton. Not so today. This morning yields only him attired in the old newsboy cap. The woman with the long straight hair leaves almost immediately. It is almost a shock to see her move so quickly after not moving at all for so long, almost as if she were a crocodile at a muddy river's edge. Not much else can be said about the last one, except he's got a pair of giant horn-rimmed glasses. It makes his face look pointy like a woodpecker. I always found it strange how a simple pair of spectacles can drastically transform a face.

Done.