AlexanderPaupoff

That warm, dreary summer, my days were spent at the window-side table of a tiny café overlooking the main street. In the afternoons, the sun insisted on reflecting off every surface so that the world seemed enveloped in a dull, white haze. I often neglected the cooling cup of coffee before me to watch out the window, lulled by the low thrum of a vague, expressionless multitude. It was among them that I first saw her. She appeared to me, in every aspect, most unremarkable, standing there at the top of the stairs to the underground metro, adjusting her cap. And I had turned away almost immediately, distracted by the incessant cooing of the little pigeon sheltered in the striped awning. I cannot say for sure if it was her I saw again across the street a few days later. It was late on a surprisingly breezy evening, and it had begun to drizzle while we waited amidst fidgety crowds for the traffic to come to a halt. She stood there: her face tilted upwards, her expression intent as she

What wondrous lies one may find hidden behind loving smiles, behind tall tales and charms and wiles that, all in all, will rob you blind of your silly heart, your foolish mind. And then you’ll wonder how it was so easy; was it just because the life you live is so confined that you believe in every kind word that might be uttered or sweet nothings make you so secure, you leave yourself, your fate, consigned to those who would be so inclined to hurt, to scar, to disappear without a trace? Now so we’re clear, listen close, you weren’t designed to be half-loved or left behind. So, steel yourself, you aren’t defined by others that you lose or find.