A young women sat near me on the bus today. Despite registering her obviously good looks when she got on the bus, her age having derailed any romantic notions that I would have, I didn’t look at her too deeply.
When she came to sit near me, I immediately noticed that she had perfect Japanese anime eyes. They were of that quintessential shape that anime and manga characters all seem to have. Having grown up watching these programs, I am acutely aware of them.
How could merely seeing someone’s eyes, not talking to them, not staring deeply into them and not even complimenting them be a Perfect Moment? How could one drop of rain be one? How could the sound of a baseball striking a bat be one? How could the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the cinnamon smell of a Danish fresh from the oven be one?
The Perfect Moment is a Perfect Moment. I don’t control it. I can’t put limits on it. I can’t constrain it. I can’t make it fit into a box that it doesn’t fit into. All I can do is share it with you.