I would like to ask what those four people on the tram were reading. They looked like an extract from a movie, wearing similar mantels, the two men also a cap in style, the women also a scarf in color with the jacket. All singularly, sitting on the single seats near the entrance of the tram, aware only of their books and maybe the actual tram stop behind the window near them.
It was an invitation to sit in the single sit just behind two of them and add a fifth person to this old-fashioned scene, although I had no hat, but my book. And when I sat and had my book in the hand, the looked at me and smiled in an accomplice way, sharing knowledge hidden to the others. It is one of those moment when you suddenly instaure some feeling with perfect strangers, probably all thinking about being old-fashioned, out-dated, with no games on the mobile phone to play with but with a paper book, looked at like foreigners in the own country. And still, suddenly becoming the majority in the wagon population, as if suddenly the world and the time are others.
I did not notice when they left the tram. I was lost in my book.
It was an invitation to sit in the single sit just behind two of them and add a fifth person to this old-fashioned scene, although I had no hat, but my book. And when I sat and had my book in the hand, the looked at me and smiled in an accomplice way, sharing knowledge hidden to the others. It is one of those moment when you suddenly instaure some feeling with perfect strangers, probably all thinking about being old-fashioned, out-dated, with no games on the mobile phone to play with but with a paper book, looked at like foreigners in the own country. And still, suddenly becoming the majority in the wagon population, as if suddenly the world and the time are others.
I did not notice when they left the tram. I was lost in my book.
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