Not beeing that fabulous. Dreaming of the moment.
Making no eye contact. Head down.
Not wanting eyes drawn to you. So you hurry.
Walking fast and steadily.
Because speed hides you.
The occasional watcher in the darkened edges.
Seeling the unseen.
Hiding forever on the faceless streets.
Until someone sees you. And gives you a smile.
Copyright Hugo Lütcherath
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