She's a mystic soul, she meanders on her own, with her camera in tow.
She walks, stops, smiles to strange faces and unwelcoming facets.
She just stays, alone.
Her need for company is often unrequited.
Her grief, often unanswered.
With her doubts resting, and her trust dubious, she makes her way among the crowd, the mingling ones with put-up smiles.
She pretends to smile at a joke, she doesn't really understand it.
She silently makes her way out when they play their music. She doesn't appreciate the thumping sounds and the non-lyrical banter.
Music's that that's often playing in her head, with the lyrics buzzing like they do in them, cartoons.
She spots lights, the ones that catapult her to a sudden feeling of elation, the ones that give her a high without the need of nicotine-fills, the ones that make her eyes glimmer with happiness.
P. S. That's a picture clicked by me. What do you guys think?
P. P. S. for people who'd know, that's a picture clicked across the oval maidan at churchgate at around 10pm in the night.
9 hours ago