Little Thing

Travelling by train is always fascinating. The world flowing out of the window, and you. Alone with your music, or chatting with your single-serving friend if you are fortunate enough to find someone interesting sitting near you (rare case).

On the first days of September I had to go to Perugia by train to take my motorbike and drive it back home in Rome. So, 6 ‘o clock in the morning, wearing jeans, shirt and leather jacket and carrying the helmet with me, I jumped on the first of two Intercity trains I had to ride to go to Perugia.

Later that morning, before arriving at the station this girl sitting a few seats next to me asked if the next stop was Perugia’s station. Yes it was. She was tiny, with beautiful eyes and smile and an interesting bracelet at her ankle.
We moved to the back of the car, waiting for the train to reach the station and we just chatted a bit: “what you do”, “where do you come from”… I thought she was a student coming back from vacation, but she said me she was a dancer, and she had a show that night in Perugia (something based on clochards stories).
I totally loved the way she looked at me when she said she wasn’t a student but a dancer.
“I’m trying to” she said.
She was almost embarassed, maybe waiting for a shocked expression on my face like she said she was a Serial Killer or Tax Inspector (you decide wich is worst).
I told her I worked as a graphic designer and I deeply appreciated she didn’t asked if my job involved computers in some way or “are you good at drawing?”. The train took a bit more than what I expected to reach the station, so we kept talking a bit more. Once arrived I helped her with her luggage, then I said “bye” and started walking towards the station exit.

Damn, she was fine!

A few steps, then I turned back, to ask her… her name, something. But she was gone. Disappeared among the crowd of people isterically jumping on and off the trains in the station.
I looked around, looked for her face, maybe to hear her voice again, but she was gone.

There are quite a number of times in your life when things like these happens. The girl that smiles at you while having a coffee in the morning, the way you and that lady sitting a table next to you at the restaurant keep looking each other in the eyes. Number of times.
But this was quite different. I loved the way she talked, her modesty in explaining what she was doing, the almost invisible scar on her lip, her eyes, her voice.
She was tiny.
And lovely too.

I almost considered the option to pass a night in Perugia and go and see her show… but I didn’t remember the title… and I was worried to be disguised as a maniac! So, had the motorbike back, met a friend for lunch and then headed back to Rome under heavy rain with no waterproof clothing.
What a day.

Wherever you are now, tiny girl without a name, be proud of what you are doing, be proud of your what’s your passion. You’re not “trying to do it”. You had a show that night. Right? You are doing it. Put love, passion, strenght in it. Do it at your best. Sure you do.
Maybe another train will make us meet again.
Or maybe not.