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QuestionShe was a small girl, no more than eight. I remember the way her hands curled around the thin white bars, the way she leaned her forehead against the cold steel, the way her dark eyes sunk into themselves and seemed to engulf everything they touched. She was sitting on the windowsill of a first floor flat. She had slipped her legs through the spaces between the window bars and was swinging her feet gently over the streaming traffic below. I stopped on the sidewalk a few yards away. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her. She seemed to be the center, the revolving point of all that was moving around me. She was humming softly to herselfQuestion
by ~Youmymystery
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: L.A. California
- Interests: music, photography, art, cooking, trees
- Favourite genre of music: Indie
- Wallpaper of choice: blue
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