The autumn breath was in the air again, more powerful each day and darker and colder as time got by. Black clouds running over the city, their eyes never looking down at the people rushing by, trying to find shelter against the cold winds of the city... Who could take a look at them, always in such a rush, always under so many masks? It was a time of rushing by, never looking behind and around, always neglecting details, more or less important; no time for soul, no time for people any more... no time for wonder, for the joy of discovering, veil by veil, one person as he or she is.
And then no time anymore, to really like that person for what she/he is... It might be a true, but rare art to find in people details, trait brushes that would make you like that person. You meet someone, and there is no wonder in knowing that person anymore, you just end up taking them as they are, no questions asked, no "curious eye" to try and see behind the shell. And you stop there, you go out, you have fun, but there's no pondering, no yearning about that person. In the end it is all about the self, in the end we all fight against the fierce winds blowing into our face, we transiently meet people on our paths, but we rarely look at them, at least not for their sake. We never look unless, it is about us and our interest involved somehow, otherwise, people don't really matter. They and eventually us, just end up being some "happy accidents" in someone's life...we meet, we part, we meet again....until we part for good.
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