When they had hurried to the train station with their violin cases, they had drawn almost as many stares as they would on any normal day when their hair was to their knees and sheeting behind them like red silk. A poetic fruit-seller had told them once that they looked like dryads, and they did still, only now they looked like dryads who had tired of snagging their hair on brambles and sliced it all off on the edge of a knife.
This excerpt paints a vivid picture of characters who are extraordinary yet rooted in a world that treats them with curiosity and wonder. Their outward appearances—long, flowing hair that cascades like red silk—are striking enough to attract attention even in mundane settings like a train station. The comparison to dryads, mythological tree nymphs, infuses them with an almost ethereal quality, emphasizing their closeness to nature and the fantastical. However, there is a poignant shift as the characters appear to have shed some of their old, wild beauty, choosing practicality over danger, as indicated by cutting off their hair with a knife. This act symbolizes a transition from an untamed past to perhaps a more manageable or concealed identity, hinting at internal struggles or a desire for change. The mention of a poetic fruit-seller liking their appearance evokes the sense of poetic storytelling—ordinary people with extraordinary qualities who, despite their uniqueness, are navigating everyday realities. The scene suggests themes of transformation, societal perception, and resilience. It invites reflection on how individuals adapt their identities to meet circumstances or internal needs, and how their uniqueness continues to shape their interactions with the world. The imagery of hair, silk, and knives intertwines notions of beauty, danger, and survival, enriching the narrative with layers of symbolism about identity and self-expression.
