You felt she'd done a thousand secret things to her eyes. They needed no haze of cigarette smoke to look at you out of sexy and fathomless, but carried their own along with them. New York must have been for her a city of smoke, its streets the courtyards of limbo, its bodies like wraiths. Smoke seemed to be in her voice, in her movements; making her all the more substantial, more there, as if words, glances, small lewdnesses could only become baffled and brought to rest like smoke in her long hair; remain there useless till she released them, accidentally and unknowingly, with a toss of her head.
The passage reflects on a woman's captivating presence, emphasizing how her eyes possess a mysterious allure that draws others in without the need for any external enhancements like smoke. Her connection to New York is profound, with the city represented as a hazy realm where people drift like spirits. The narrative paints a picture of her as ethereal yet tangible, suggesting that the essence of the city permeates her being.
This woman embodies the seductive quality of smoke, influencing not only her gaze but also her voice and movements. The imagery conveys that her allure lies in the intangible qualities of smoke: elusive yet compelling. Words and gestures seem entrapped by her charm, lingering until she inadvertently releases them, which highlights her unconscious power and the enigmatic nature of her presence.
