Those jeans

Today’s musings are centred around the mutability of my favourite pair of jeans. These are not the jeans that inspired the name of this blog all those years ago, but a passable substitute, which started out life black.

They have faded to grey now, as has the tarmac on the road I was walking on in bright sunlight in the early afternoon. The rather steep inclination foreshortened my shadow so that it approximated my true physical stature.

As I looked down, I noticed that the colour of my jeans, the shadow, and the tarmac itself were all of a muchness, and stuck through with the solid white line—also faded—on the side of the road.

I was in Porto three years ago, standing on pale grey calçada (cobblestones, more or less) waiting to meet up with a translator colleague with whom I have worked extensively. She spotted me first, from behind, and startled me from my reverie as she called out in her customary imperious yet cheerful tone, “I thought I recognised those legs!”

Then, as now, I laughed at the oddity of the remark, for the jeans I was wearing on that day, mutable as they are, were the same ones I had on today – and there is nothing grey about that thought at all.

©2019 Allison Wright

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