Wednesday, 3 November 2004

Brief Encounter

Looking up the script of Citizen Kane the other day to check a reference reminded me that a few years ago one of our Sunday columnists was writing about great passions, in literature or real life, and asking his readers which one they thought endured the longest following the shortest contact. This was my nomination:

Everett Sloane as the aged Bernstein:
One day back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on a ferry, and as we pulled out there was another ferry pulling in, and on it there was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn’t see me at all, but I bet a month hasn’t gone by since, that I haven’t thought of that girl.

2 comments:

PerfectlyVocal said...

This post struck me as an amazing coincidence. I was driving home from work this evening and was thinking how people touch our lives and are totally unaware of it, and probably, we similarly touch their's.

Tony said...

Yes, Cal, mutual co-thoughting indeed.
Actually, nothing like this ever happened to me, but the contrary has: I have sometimes come across an old diary entry referring to someone whom I knew quite well for many years to find that I have ABSOLUTELY NO RECOLLECTION of the person, as in
What was the colour of my true love’s hair?
I can’t recall….
Was there a gingham dress she used to wear?
No idea at all….