On my way out of yoga today, I heard a voice. I couldnt SEE the voice, I could only hear it, but I knew I had to find the owner. It was a deep reed instrument, a baritone sax. A voice that knew secrets. It was the kind of rich caramel tone that makes women question their loyalties to virtue. When I finally exited the building, I saw a young black man on the phone, maybe 35, unremarkable except for his voice. I stared right at him and he acknowledged my involuntary smile with half of one of his own. It would not surprise me if he were not on the phone at all, just sitting on a bench taking into the sunshine, waiting for women like me to... approve.
Posted on: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 16:08:51 +0000
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