Burqa’s & Such.

I got to talking to a woman at work yesterday that I’ve not had that much to do with to date. A few brief passes in the corridor, she wears a burqa, I don’t– That’s about it, really.

She and I happened to take lunch at the same time yesterday– she mentioned that she’d recently phoned a radio station in response to a ridiculous story they were running on banning burqas in Australian schools.

I mentioned I’d been working for Media Monitors prior to here– I relayed some gawd awful tales of monitoring the most racist, ill informed, xenophobic tripe– a lot. Too much, I confessed, too much.

I enjoyed our lunch together and was glad to have grown to know her– it’s a big office and I’m pretty new– There are a lot of names to remember. But everyone seems particularly cool– relaxed– open.

So… she, it turns out, has this new found penchant for calling talk back radio stations and voicing her sentiments– while I, on the other hand, am writing this blog about/with/kinda for/kinda not for, Leonard Cohen.

She dug.

I dug.

There was digging.

It was only a 20 minute lunch, mind…

Then, today, again, I bumped in to her in the same little section of the office as yesterday, right by the stairwell, near the bathrooms, but never in the way–

“Hey!” I said, all Friday, sprightly like–

She acknowledged me.

I looked her up and down, quickly, briefly, swiftly… playfully…

She was wearing a long floral shift skirt with sandels, and a tightly fitting black top, her hair was out and flowing, long and chester– No burqa.

None whatsoever.

“How are you?” I said cheekily… giving her my sauciest glad eye– the one that usually makes people laugh– because it’s mainly just pretend– that one– that glad eye– you know– I gave her that one.

And she smiled. Big. And beautiful. Her smile is quite something. She’s a beacon of something pretty cool and gorgeous when she smiles, that girl–

“Yeah…” She began to relay…

“I got home last night and got to thinking about what you said, about the Australian media… and being culturally conditioned… and… I thought… Fuck it.”

There was movement at the station– all around us– chaos and sound and speed– Friday mornings can get pretty hectic– but somewhere there, she and I, spent forever in this tiny little random office moment that meant the world to the both of us, I could tell.

We giggled like school girls in the corridor– till I figured I should get back to my desk… “You look so beautiful…” I said, with big eager eyes. Nodding. Giving her that same cheeky faux glad eye.

I walked off wishing she smoked…

So I could get to know her better.

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