A piano, guitar and two voices.
Just an hour before, I had found myself in the tall corridors of Yorkdale, my damp leather-booted feet carrying me as fast as they possibly could to two stops. American Eagle for underwear, since Mocha had ripped into the brand new supply I had bought just the week before (she is the most expensive dog I have ever met). Then to Shoppers Drugmart, on a quest for toothpaste and make-up. So much make-up, to replace my blush and bronzer, which broke when I dropped my make-up basket two weeks ago, and my foundation, which I ran out of almost a month ago and have been scraping the remains out of the corner of my compact ever since.
Some of the time, there's something about shopping, rushed shopping, necessary shopping, no, unnecessary shopping that seems necessary, something about it that brings me down. Last night, as I left the mall, it felt like someone had placed an extra weight in that American Eagle bag. Perhaps it was the confusion I always feel standing in front of the displays of 'cheap' make-up, testers missing. What shade am I supposed to wear? Pure beige? Porcelain Ivory? Nude? Is that bronzer too orange? The blush, will it even show up on my cheeks? I've made that mistake before.
And yet, two hours later, with this song reverberating through my very core, I felt like dancing through the snow. Did you see it last night? It was beautiful. Calm. Quiet.