It's all in the eyes

I've noticed a consistent conundrum amidst the Shameless path to which my intrigue thrives upon, (and am certain it shall be a reoccurring subject in future Vagabond endeavors).

The opposite sex, is are unrelenting factors of life, and although I believe I will encounter an equally (if not more) Vagabond counterpart I doubt I will ever fully grasp the mysterious mademoiselle.

Historically I have been known for my taste in varieties of women.

Asian, Israeli, Indian, Brasilian, Spanish, Caucasian and anything else that happens to walk by my field of view. I would parade around town with Kim Kardashian on my arm, but I would be completely satisfied with cafe appointment with Diane Keaton. Such eclecticism is the making for indecision, but with my trusty hormonal filter I typically opt to look and not touch.

Many look the part, but most can't remember the lines. ; )

So what does a Vagabond do when not driven by penal fancies or forceful for vows and flowers?

He watches.

The powers of observation should not be demeaned as a result of any pusillanimous traits. Hunters observe their prey, and snipers study their targets and both have guns.

We all should be careful.

I saw a ,most likely, Middle Eastern woman at Wal-Mart with her husband. The only skin I saw was the strip between her eyes, and perhaps a finger or two.

"What a lucky guy," thought the Shameless One.

Only he knows the mysteries that lie under the black cloth. Celebrity fancies often leave little to the imagination, and whores come in all shapes and sizes. Can't you see that girls panties from here? Everyone can. That and the modesty tucked in her cleavage with a crusty 100 dollar bill.

With this woman it's a different game and indeed a path. There is no sex tape plastered across the internet for collegiate spank banks, Maxim Magazine spreads or appearances in the gossip publications. She's her husband's best kept secret, and though I wasn't raised around women of her kind something about her struck a soft chord with me.

Her clothed mystery made her beautiful. She's so beautiful that all society was worthy to behold was her gaze and index finger. No bodacious breasts. No plumpous rumpus. Not even lips for puckering. Just her eyes.

It's all in the eyes.