Peering round, I notice a face. 20 of them, staring blankly straight ahead. The teacher babbles on, enlightening the students on the topic of Art; you can make a lot of interesting marks by swinging your pen this way, that way. I try to concentrate. It’s hard, when there’s the blissful morning sun, the light eagerly leaking out from the blinds, which haven’t been properly pulled down, as if it was done deliberately, teasing me with the outside world, the beautiful weather, the cloudless sky. Still summer on the porch.

Peering round, I notice her. The small, well-defined features, the tiny upturned nose and the proportionately high cheekbones looked mesmerizing. Her sly, concentrated face looked very content, happy, retaining a pure and simple essence.
No complexity, nothing difficult or obscure, none of those fake super-complicated-condescending-looking-down-upon-you stares and glances, which make you feel uncomfortable as hell. On the contrary, the girl looked plain, and in that blissful plainness lied a great deal of genuine sophistication.
Her overall composure was of a tactful, elegant young lady, a perfect posture, sitting absurdly still and tight, yet remaining calm, with a relaxed, nonchalant expression on her face.

She noticed me. Don’t stare for too long, I tell myself. I have this ancient problem, a habit to look at a particular person for quite a long time. Gives me the kicks to analyze someone’s face, proportions, expressions, emotions. When riding on the metro or taking a bus home, I like to concentrate my look on interesting personalities, think about who they might be, what kind of life they lead, etc. And when I find a particularly nice personality, I peer at them, and fall in the so-called 5-minute-love ecstasy, a state where I think I feel something for them, but in reality, it’s nothing. After all, I’m an egoist :) I should understand that it’s my aesthetically-oriented mind pursuing a beautiful entity, not taking in the fact that I’m not even acquainted with that person, do not know their habits, their beliefs, their motives.

I should keep this to myself. Don’t do any harm. I don’t even know her name. It’ll pass.

It’s not fucking passing....

$root - whoami
The Interview

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// To the future

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