Late in a warm afternoon, wandering through a beautiful lonesome park, there was a girl with a pale face and feebler eyes, searching for a place to land and rest. There was a slight breeze, felt as a memory of an old summer. You could hear the silence of the trees and bright flowers, you could feel the emptiness of people.
The girl meandered, driven by the need to be where she could feel her existence and be in stillness.
She was carrying a heavy briefcase holding books, strange sketches, and loose words.
Staring at the leaves against the sky she wished for a place she could belong. Somewhere faraway from everything she knew, but that might feel familiar if somehow someone would recognize her soul.
Reaching the far limits of this park she found an abandoned coffeehouse,with forgotten old chairs and brownish-red tables. She sat down and took her rest. What an amazing place this was, concealed by tall trees and shrubs, little spy-birds enjoying the day's linger. This is not an ordinary place, she thought, I can feel voices reaching my senses and caressing my hands as I had wished. I recognize this quiet world. A mild smile outlined her mouth, and as she was closing her eyes a fragile-looking cat jumped onto her table and lay down, close to her hand, exploring her intentions. Sweet lazy cat, you're my company, alone and free as me, I see you, and I see your pain and bravery, one-eyed siamese. You're receptive to life, ready for hurt, ready for love. We don't have anything to give each other except our own presence. I'll stay here and breathe with you.
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