Waiting for the green light

She was the most beautiful woman I’ve seen. Everything around, the roaring motorbikes, impatient drivers, cold wind, the red traffic light came together that afternoon to act as a romantic background to this beauty one will seldom see in his lifetime. Unlike most young women in Vietnam, she was not riding a Piaggio, Vespa, or latest Japanese motorbike models, instead she was riding a beaten up Honda Dream. I thought it was so unlucky of me to wait for 45 seconds for the green light, but her presence during that time made me think otherwise.


She was not looking at anyone; her attention was straight ahead. I wonder what her name is, how old she is, of if she’s married. But I didn’t want to spoil the frame of that moment capturing a view that was beyond my ability to put into words. I wanted her to remain in that place to represent aesthetics at its most sublime form.

36 seconds before the light turned green.

She fixed her helmet and turned off her motorbike in such a graceful and flowing manner.

24  seconds before the light turned green.

She remained motionless, almost statue-like. The subtle rise and fall of her breasts as she inhaled and exhaled the cold, dust-laden Hanoian air gave life to the perfect white marble in front of me.

12  seconds before the light turned green.

She brought her motorbike back to life with her almost  magical key. She looked like a goddess giving life to her creation. It was unforgettable.

Yellow light.

She looked at my direction and fixed her sunglasses. I knew she smiled at me.

Green light.