Dressed as always the final silence of the lips of the woman entered the bus and sat in first place by the window, just behind the driver.
The start of the journey was identified in her hands opening a book. Because reading requires silence and introspection, even when someone is around people. Assumes also cease to think and even violence, the ugliness of life and especially his personal beauty.
The woman reading was always a woman stared. All you never knew which way just to look.
The truth is that sometimes, even small, looked at her face in a huge mirror old-fashioned and that first look imposing a pause in femininity. That turned into a living female silence.
And now, starting a short trip looking for the look of what the pages of a book that accentuates the silence of its existence.
The silent reading of not suspended nor the pezologikes findings of the fellow passengers, these random fellow beauty and silence.
With her fingers she caress the cover of the book is adorned by a picture of a woman's body wrapped in a black mesh shawl wanders into a summer beach next to the old boats that traveled dreams of couples in some distant era.
So, fingers touching another woman, a silence on past.
And it was like to want to allow that silence to penetrate your body through the white skin of the hands.
So it continues to ignore the voracious male gaze next position, which indeed nothing could be added to the inner adventure of reading she enjoys traveling.
But dislikes stations, dislikes, attitudes, departing from the path of integration of writing the female body and female memory.
Truly indeed, writing and stability, permanence and writing are inseparable couples who rents exclusively to the body of a few number of female silence, those who can not easily be encountered in an era polyakoustikotitas like today.
Only the low-voiced sweet sound of change of pages may be part of the adventure that is living with a companion book carefully and completely cleared. Why Literature is the love of words and literature with no gaps of silence is not pronounced female ever on the lips of a real woman who reads from choice and not by habit or sorrow