The Transparencies of Appearance.

A friend recently commented on people being images.  His comment, plus my wandering creativity during a Library study session resulted in this:

People as images.

The man sits at a side-ways angle from me, approximately ten-o’clock.  Perhaps man is not an entirely accurate statement.  He looks around nineteen, but his posture suggests maturity beyond his age. He wears black framed glasses, with the rims extending only halfway down the lenses.  They’re round, suggesting he chose them more on personal liking than following a trend.  However, they do bear hints of the hipster style, so perhaps it was his way of being both individualistic and modern. 

            His shoes, worn and tattered from many years of wear, are brown Vans.  Although the shoe style is very popular, the distressed state of his footwear suggests he has loved them for a long time, before they were a mainstream trend.  He continues to wear them because they are comfortable, not trendy.  Part of him likes that they are fashionable, though; he has confidence in his authenticity; he predicted the trend.  I know he wears them not solely because they are “in;” his bulky blue-grey wool socks give that away.  Comfort and application has won out over fashion in this instance. 

            His dark brown jeans bear the tell-tale wrinkles of being clean, but most likely never folded.  Probably he pulled them out of a laundry bin this morning.  They are not current jeans; the size and fit remark that perhaps they once had a different owner.  They are rolled up on the ends and loose on the hips; perhaps they were his father’s? 

            Brown hair highlighted with blonde wisps atops his oval face.  Its cut is classic, bearing resemblance to an ivy-league academy or even a military regulation that is a few months overdue.  His black t-shirt that conceals his otherwise wiry frame has a woman’s face on it; I believe she represents a band.  Now that he has shifted positions, I can see more clearly it says “Cher.”  This fits in with the rest of his character.  I know he is a musician; I met him a coffee shop a few evenings back, and he gave me a flier for his band’s performance, which is actually tonight.  His musical nature is further confirmed by the gentle way he nods back and forth while he reads a novel, as if he’s maintaining a steady, silent beat.  Now he pensively picked up his pen and marked in his book.  Most likely he is not reading this novel by choice; it’s a school assignment.  He is proceeding to pack up his books and leave.  I glance over my shoulder to see if he will look back; he does not.  Character in, character out.  Who will be next?