Today, I went to a small museum. Though the exhibits themselves were informational and entertaining, as usual, I found my interest drifting to that of the people.
Today, the topic is children.
On the way to the building, while I waited at a crosswalk, a schoolgirl shuffled past me. I stepped out of her path as she walked - too absorbed in her smartphone to pay attention to her path. Her left hand gently pressed her earphones in place. Listening to music? Playing a game? Well, her expression was far too grave for either of those, her lower lip crinkling in a scowl.
She was clearly a schoolgirl from her attire - a uniform - white button-down shirt tucked into the waistband of a plaid, pleated green skirt. A rule-abiding student, or one from a stricter school than some other youths, her hem fell well past her knees. Her white socks extended well above her ankles, though too loose since they fell with every hasty step she made. She wore weathered pink sneakers with grey accents, white laces stained with age.
She seemed to be in a hurry.
Once I entered the museum, I found there was a field trip, a large gathering of little boys and girls no older than eight years old. Their teacher was distracted to the side, leaving the guide to try and entertain the vivacious group. Some of the children listened to the guide-woman's speech on the geography of their country. Others let their minds wander, lost in the fantastical depths of their own imaginary worlds. Some bolder children chattered to their friends, oblivious to the guide's enthusiastic explanations.
Of this group, I took notice of one particular little girl.
She didn't listen the guide, not even pretending to look in the woman's direction, but she wasn't inattentive in the least. Instead, her gaze flitted from one exhibit to another, practically sparkling as she took in the sights to see, the text to read... her mouth was pursed in concentration.
She wore a flouncy black knee-length dress with a pattern of small grey printed skulls. Around her waist was a ribbon, lavender, the same as the one that tied her dark brown hair into a high ponytail. The straight cut of her bangs obscured her eyebrows and forehead, but left her eager dark eyes clear..
She wore bright white sandals which strapped around her ankles.
Probably new.
Another child was a boy accompanied by his 'father'. Both wore plaid red shirts with blue and white stripes, long orange shorts, and came down the same flight of stairs. The man wore orange slippers and carried a bright red camera. The child wore grey sneakers with red accents.
As it turns out, as I left the museum, the two parted ways - not father and child after all, but two strangers who had worn uncannily identical outfits.
The world works in strange ways, indeed.
Today, the topic is children.
On the way to the building, while I waited at a crosswalk, a schoolgirl shuffled past me. I stepped out of her path as she walked - too absorbed in her smartphone to pay attention to her path. Her left hand gently pressed her earphones in place. Listening to music? Playing a game? Well, her expression was far too grave for either of those, her lower lip crinkling in a scowl.
She was clearly a schoolgirl from her attire - a uniform - white button-down shirt tucked into the waistband of a plaid, pleated green skirt. A rule-abiding student, or one from a stricter school than some other youths, her hem fell well past her knees. Her white socks extended well above her ankles, though too loose since they fell with every hasty step she made. She wore weathered pink sneakers with grey accents, white laces stained with age.
She seemed to be in a hurry.
Once I entered the museum, I found there was a field trip, a large gathering of little boys and girls no older than eight years old. Their teacher was distracted to the side, leaving the guide to try and entertain the vivacious group. Some of the children listened to the guide-woman's speech on the geography of their country. Others let their minds wander, lost in the fantastical depths of their own imaginary worlds. Some bolder children chattered to their friends, oblivious to the guide's enthusiastic explanations.
Of this group, I took notice of one particular little girl.
She didn't listen the guide, not even pretending to look in the woman's direction, but she wasn't inattentive in the least. Instead, her gaze flitted from one exhibit to another, practically sparkling as she took in the sights to see, the text to read... her mouth was pursed in concentration.
She wore a flouncy black knee-length dress with a pattern of small grey printed skulls. Around her waist was a ribbon, lavender, the same as the one that tied her dark brown hair into a high ponytail. The straight cut of her bangs obscured her eyebrows and forehead, but left her eager dark eyes clear..
She wore bright white sandals which strapped around her ankles.
Probably new.
Another child was a boy accompanied by his 'father'. Both wore plaid red shirts with blue and white stripes, long orange shorts, and came down the same flight of stairs. The man wore orange slippers and carried a bright red camera. The child wore grey sneakers with red accents.
As it turns out, as I left the museum, the two parted ways - not father and child after all, but two strangers who had worn uncannily identical outfits.
The world works in strange ways, indeed.
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