Preternatural Prettiness

I met Astrid on the ferry to Whidbey Island. She stumbled up the stairs ahead of me, clinging to a dog carrier, a huge leather bag and a Subway sandwich. We sat down in the nearest available seating that was empty. I surmised that she was like me, wanting to be alone to read her book. I pushed on my reading glasses. Yet I couldn?t keep from looking at the woman across from me. To say she was unique would be an understatement. She fed her dog bites from her mouth through the un-zippered top of its carrier. Her braided hair streamed over her shoulder, an odd color, a sort of a brindle shot with white. She wore blue and pink and lime green all at once. You?ve heard it?s all in the eyes. With Astrid that was true. Her eyes were green as grass in the spring. The eyes said intelligence, strength and something else - vividness, that preternatural prettiness that comes from living one?s life on a taunt thread. I didn?t know then that she was a revolutionary