Patience (patiens) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-11-15 00:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | patience |
Who: Patience and open!
Where: Chess-boards, NYC
What: Idling time away
When: Early Sunday morning
It was too cool now, the air tinged with a bitterness that stung the eyes and cheeks to tears, to redness, for anyone to walk through who did not have a purposeful way of moving onward and for them to do anything but lower their heads against the way the wind whipped at vulnerable, exposed skin, and barrage through. There was no stopping to look, no meandering, no ‘smell the roses’ with the flowers all dead. She sat -- not at a bench, for benches were occupied by the paper-enveloped shufflers through life, those she visited time and again as work -- but at the now-abandoned stone chessboards. Leaves blew and scattered across the surface, flutter-danced like virtuosos performing for an oblivious monarch and on one board, butting against heavy, weighted pieces that silently stood to attention and to command. Long fingers idled against a piece (a rook) and contemplated the board with the same smiling, drifting attention Patience paid the world. The wind whistled: it curled its fingers sharp against her neck and kissed its ice against her cheek -- Patience, with amused firmness, pulled her coat taut, wrapped her scarf a little tighter and moved her piece.
The other seat was empty, but she moved the pieces too -- white and black, Patience played for both with a vague disregard for rules or time ticking down. The city slowly woke around her, the light began to lick across the stone with soft and bright dawn. Patience sat.