She has several tattoos, one a faded swastika, an ancient symbol poisened by more recent meaning, drawn on the back of a brownskinned hand placed on a shawl thrown over her lap, those same callused hands are telling a rosary of large wooden beads.

Twice this week, in the bus she's sat in front of me: short wavy black hair, some gray woven in, mystery is intimacy by another calling.

 

 

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