Orphan Gloves
enero 17, 2018
There is something strangely sad but also quite charming about the number of discarded gloves that I've encountered during my brief stay in England.
The first one I noticed was at St Pancras Train Station. It was just lying there, very innocently. I thought it curious.
It happened twice more, both times on the streets, in passing.
The one that made the biggest impression on me was a tiny kid glove that had been carefully placed upon a small transparent container tied to a short metal bicycle ride. It made me wonder about all the possibilities. Did the mom, or the child, put it then and then forgot? Did someone find it and had the beautiful sense of putting there just in case someone might return for it? Moreover... is that box in there for missing items? How cute it would be if it were specifically for gloves, or general winter-wear.
It kept happening: Oxford near Blackwell's Bookshop, Salisbury near the train station, London near Trafalgar Square.
I wonder if all these people renounce to their lonely glove (I know I have not, for I still believe my other one can turn up, even if I buy more pairs), or just throw them aside and forget. Perhaps one of their hands found another source of heat that night; perhaps they've kept it so they have yet to realize.
Whatever the reason, whenever I saw the discarded garment I blinked and sighed and thought "how nostalgic". I'd write an ode to orphan gloves on streets if I knew the first thing about verse-composition.
In lieu of a post script, I'll mention that I also saw a credit card wedged in between two train seats on my way to Salisbury and a guard handing back a fallen credit card to an unsuspecting Underground passenger another day.
All this flakiness makes me feel right at home, honestly.
As I said: charming.
Hello, I'm Roxie!
0 comentarios