January 12, 2002


All I can see is the bottom half of her legs and the top part of her left knee. Also, vaguely, some thigh.

Actually I can’t really see her legs or thigh but rather the shape they make her slacks make.

Her slacks are a brownish sort of gray – the color, as I imagine it, of an aristocrat’s horse.

I have some judgment about her shoes. They’re too fashionable: the heals too high, the fronts too square. Also I sense too much energy, just from her shoes, devoted to appearance.

She has one hand – I see this also, although it requires me to move my eyes as far as possible to the left while keeping my head entirely still, as during an eye exam – folded over the other.

Before sitting down I saw that she is beautiful.

We’re waiting for the train.