Instead of reading my newest Creative Screenwriting magazine during my lunch break yesterday, I found myself people watching while seated on the back patio at Panini Garden in Venice. I scribbled down my surroundings and thoughts.
Every person around me seems like a different planet. The sky is gorgeous, blue with smeared white clouds, sparkly tan overhang compliments the blue hue. Woman to my right is a pregnant French woman who's probably about 8 months along, chatting on her phone in French for the past 20 minutes. She continuously plays loud audio on her laptop for short snippets of time. I'm shamelessly eavesdropping, trying to pick out familiar words and phrases, my heart sighing at the thought of my recent EuroJam. Woman to my left reads a novel. I'm not sure she realizes that her underwear are peeking out from her stance, legs stretched across the wooden bench. Woman across the way reads In Touch, MJ's ghostly face sprawled across the front page. The frumpy woman directly across from me shovels her lunch into her mouth while enjoying her newspaper. Beyond her chomping, a cute older couple quietly eats their lunch. The woman cuts her food very properly, almost like a true Parisian. This reminds me, I want to practice the table manners of Europeans. A couple just sat down to my right, exchanging minimal talk, the girl busy typing her cell phone, like me. I'm sitting here stuffed from an incredible crepe, dreaming my dreams, waddling down the several paths I've cleared in my mind, barely awake but awake enough to know that times are changing and it's time. These little birds are so sweet, hopping from table to table, perching for treats. I'd love to squeeze one...
Every person around me seems like a different planet. The sky is gorgeous, blue with smeared white clouds, sparkly tan overhang compliments the blue hue. Woman to my right is a pregnant French woman who's probably about 8 months along, chatting on her phone in French for the past 20 minutes. She continuously plays loud audio on her laptop for short snippets of time. I'm shamelessly eavesdropping, trying to pick out familiar words and phrases, my heart sighing at the thought of my recent EuroJam. Woman to my left reads a novel. I'm not sure she realizes that her underwear are peeking out from her stance, legs stretched across the wooden bench. Woman across the way reads In Touch, MJ's ghostly face sprawled across the front page. The frumpy woman directly across from me shovels her lunch into her mouth while enjoying her newspaper. Beyond her chomping, a cute older couple quietly eats their lunch. The woman cuts her food very properly, almost like a true Parisian. This reminds me, I want to practice the table manners of Europeans. A couple just sat down to my right, exchanging minimal talk, the girl busy typing her cell phone, like me. I'm sitting here stuffed from an incredible crepe, dreaming my dreams, waddling down the several paths I've cleared in my mind, barely awake but awake enough to know that times are changing and it's time. These little birds are so sweet, hopping from table to table, perching for treats. I'd love to squeeze one...
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