This afternoon I strolled over to Granville Island on my lunch hour. While it was a bit nippy, the fog of the past few days and this morning's rime had been dispersed by a gentle sun. Light clouds ambled across a pale-blue sky.
My errands complete and my lunch munched, I drifted past the plaza outside of La Baguette et l'Echalote, a rather yummy bakery. One of the Island's regular buskers, a lean, dapper, bespectacled guitarist/chanteur, was singing "La Vie En Rose." As his calm strumming and evocative voice floated en air, a young couple took to the empty plaza and began to dance.
They stood face-to-face. He put one hand on her lower back, she put one of hers on his shoulder. Their other hands clasped outstretched. He was clad in a Goretex raincoat with a beanie jammed down tightly on his head. She wore jeans, thick-rimmed glasses, and clumpy approach shoes. They were not particularly good dancers. But as they moved uncertainly around the empty plaza, to me they seemed to glide. They were in love, and for the briefest of interludes I was caught in that sweet, crystallized moment.
This has lingered with me all day, and I wanted to share it with you, Dear Friends.
Edith Piaf - La Vie En Rose (buy here)