Worth a Thousand Words: Waiting

Waiting (c.1879-1882). Edgar Degas
via Books and Art

I look at this and think, "I've had days like that."

Fortunately, not lately. They don't look as if they were merely waiting but tired, beat-down, worn out. Of course, this is simply my interpretation which is the great thing about art. It can speak to us all differently. You may not see that same feeling there. Maybe I get it from the leaning forward. It could just be a very uncomfortable bench.

I also wonder what they are thinking. These days both of them would be very busy with cell phones, music, and whatnot. I myself would probably be reading a book instead of tracing lines with the end of my umbrella. (Hey, that's what she's doing. If you don't see it, then ... well, I said it above. Degas put something else there for you. Isn't it great?)