by Remy Gr

Created on: September 29, 2010

She sits alone and she does not usually talk to others.

There are some people who like to talk and some who do not. I do not belong to any of them, although I am adjusted to listening people talking. No matter I like or not, they talk. Some of them talk loudly, even quarrel, some of them just whisper, some of them might also be listening to others but at some point everybody has their own say. Everybody has some stories to tell and they want them to be listened. Some says how he felt about some celebrity, some fan themselves to sport stars, some talk about their lives, someone asks for direction around the city, and some are making fun of some others... just means annoying noise to me. I take refuge in silence.

Silence is very comfortable sometimes.

I try not to listen to their talk and look out of the window. I looked like I was staring at something, I did that too. I stared at the reflection of people on the glass window, but now I watch things moving back outside.

She is distinctive. She sits alone and talks with nobody, she doesn’t even look at anyone's face. She attracts my attention. I keep watching her. She looks out of the window but I cannot say for sure whether she looks at, the things moving back outside or she stares at the reflection of people on the window?
She is peaceful among all. I get the thinking, what she is thinking? Is she imagining something? The guy sitting beside me whispers, look at her! She looks so grim, what is her!
I nod, even say 'yes'. But I do not have to believe that guy.

She is distinctively beautiful, she looks calm and lovely.

She is somebody different. Everybody is different; it’s just about the difference of differentiating factors among people.

I wonder, is she thinking about how she is going to decorate her home, how shiny is the ornaments that other women are putting on, how creepy somebody is looking? how annoyingly that guy somewhere around the corner laughing, how nice or bad is the weather, how she is going to show up somewhere tomorrow, what she is going to cook today or something else? I wish I could read people's mind !

Is she bothered by something? Is she in a joyful imagination that narrates how wonderfully she will live her life in an unseen island? Is she lost?

Losing ourselves is not quite hard, it’s as easy as losing our way in a strange city. I recall the moment I got lost in my own hometown when I was a little kid. Being a little boy, I wondered looking at the birds how

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