Woodstock on the Train

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She reminded me of Janis Joplin.

With coffee cup balanced between her hands, eyes closed behind wire-rimmed glasses, she appeared to be asleep. I watched in wonder as the coffee cup remained perfectly vertical as the train swayed. As an unseen voice announced the next station, her eyes popped open, but only for a moment before settling back into a place of oblivion as people exited and entered the train.

Her hair was a perfect mess of waves. Janis waves. A delicate silver nose ring was in sharp contrast to the large and almost garish silver rings she wore on every finger. She wore multiple strands of beads that reminded me of the days of love beads and Woodstock. Her black lace-up boots were tied with bright red laces, and her jacket was a patchwork quilt of colours. She looked like someone who would have easily fit into those days of Woodstock, peace signs and all things “hippie”.

Her eyes remained closed as she brought the coffee cup to her lips, her movements as if in slow motion. She didn’t spill a drop.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the train it seemed completely out of place and yet perfectly fitting that she seemed so at peace.

And now, I have “by the time we got to Woodstock” playing in my mind.

Woodstock

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