There is a particular pace that characterizes orthodox Jewish women. They do not walk. They trot. Almost like a fast skipping. As if they didn’t want to be seen on the street for too long by unwanted eyes. As if their images had to be just fleeing shadows on the side walk of time.
Their strides are long. Too long for those little feet in those $5 shoes. But they get faster if they think they are being followed. Yet, they are so elegant and charming in their trotting away.
They are antsy and jumpy until they get to their neighborhood on their streets when they finally walk slower and less cautiously. Their walk is no longer a way to escape reality, but a stand toward it.
They are safer now and the can breath quietly again. No need to run. No need to hurry. Home is around the corner.