Recognising the Exceptional.

I was standing outside a shop on the retail park today when I saw a young woman of mixed race walking towards me. She was tall and slim – around 5ft 10 I should say – and was possessed of an elegant, upright posture and a languid sort of walk that is almost non-existent in the standard European type. Her baggy jeans failed to obscure the length and suppleness of her legs, and the loose green shirt she was wearing was topped with a thigh length tunic – open at the front and sides – made of something resembling cream coloured goatskin. On her head she wore a white headscarf, tied behind, with ends that hung half way down her back. She wasn’t so much attractive as mesmerising.

As she came close she turned to look at me for a brief and perfectly judged span, and the half smile on her lips most assuredly said:

‘You’re right. I am.’