Jane and I decided to take advantage of the lovely day today and head to the Hilton park to bask in the sunshine. When we arrived, the tranquil park scene was illuminated in a golden wash of light.
As we settled onto our blanket with out books, we became a part of the Rockwellesque picture. Families picnicked in the shade, boys played soccer on the grass and everyone exuded a happy calm. It could have been any park in Chicago on a Sunday... except that most women wore veils and kids shouted to each other in Darija. After a few minutes, Jane and I got hot, so we took off our long sleeve shirts to reveal our tank tops beneath. Suddenly, our bare shoulders drew bold glances our way and twitters from kids playing ball next to our blanket. Not to mention whispered asides coming from passing men.
As we enjoyed the warm sunny calm, the small thought lingered- this is definitely not Chicago. Our white skin unwitting set us apart and while we were in the Rockwell painting, we were not exactly a part of it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I would also like to add that its definitely not Chicago because it doesn't get above 50 degrees here for another two months.
Post a Comment