There is a black woman in a book cafe and she is reading the faces of those who sit here, pensively, with their flat whites and their espressos. As soon as I notice her, I try to hide my face by looking straight at her. Swiftly, the black woman turns away, having either read me already or else deeming the book unworthy of her attention.
Thursday, 6 September 2018
travelling notes (lxix)
There is a black woman in a book cafe and she is reading the faces of those who sit here, pensively, with their flat whites and their espressos. As soon as I notice her, I try to hide my face by looking straight at her. Swiftly, the black woman turns away, having either read me already or else deeming the book unworthy of her attention.
