In the grey mist of dawn, the station seemed asleep, only guarded by the last lit street lamps.
Soon, people would come to catch their trains to work, but for the time being I was on my own walking on the wet pavement leading to the platform.
The bar was still closed.
Elder trees had a strange way of hanging their boughs in the wet air.
I kept recalling the scene of such devout people sneering and gossiping about a singular woman standing within earshot.
If generosity and open-mindedness were the norm, the world would be a wonderful easy place to live in. Instead, their jealous faces, their disapproving head shaking, the envy in their eyes cloaked as righteousness kept coming back in my mind's eye.
I was an outsider there, but in the face of malevolence, I was as wild as a green forest swept by the wind, as fierce as a thunderstorm. I would always be. Besides, I wouldn't apologize for not worshipping at their altar.
The Earth was wide and generous enough to hold everyone. By contrast, "love" was their favourite word, except when they perceived a chasm between you and them.
Then, their love turned sour like curdled milk, and as black as envy, fear, and hatred they wouldn't even admit to themselves.
Little did they know, let alone imagine, that they were missing the mark.
For that is what "sin" means in the original Greek.
So, anyway, I stepped up, and praised the woman.
They didn't like it.
I was a stranger. How did I dare?
I am a human being, and would not look away.
My directness hurt them like a bee sting, because I had read through the lines of their cowardly script offered as pious concern.
When they were gone, then having a new target for their disapproval, the woman said thank you with a graceful smile.
As she strode across the street, I thought she truly looked lovely in her coloured dress and wide hat.
