on alleviating greed, and loving the things i'm blessed with. in the mirror, i saw you, as the autumn fell, until i made my turn i thought oh well, i thought well this could be the last time i see, your beautiful hands, your frozen hands, your trembling hands that could not hold on, to any heart thats warm, or any lie thats cold, your hands are paper burning in the sun. who is she, this girl? you see her in the library, elegant even in mismatched dirty pajamas, laughing with a friend of hers as she loudly and noisily rearranges the metal desk, calling "sorry everyone" as she shimmies with its weight along the tile floor, her pile of books and papers and multicolored pens tumbling everywhere and as she finally settles into comfort and turns up her headphones, you're not really surprised that you can hear it all the way across the library, the bopping beat of house music tapping against your brain in time with the tapping of her feet. (it seemed unlikely that anything could hold much longer) you think she'd be outgoing, for she's so secure, so solid in herself, but you're surprised to find that shes fairly quiet, especially in group settings, preferring to watch the action from behind liquid blue eyes and you cant help but wondering what shes thinking what shes seeing how shes perceiving things and when her voice slips out, laced with sarcasm you realize it, too, doesnt reveal anything about her ever elusive thoughts, every word is so noncomittal, so multi interpreted, is she kidding? is she teasing? is there seriousness, hidden in that lilt? sometimes you think you see her, really see her. if you want to find her, that is, her most revealing moments are late nights, draped in some form of pajama, packing bowls. make sure to keep the group small, or else you'll be witness to nothing other than witty one liners and hilarious anecdotes involving one or more of the wildly amusing people with whom she surrounds herself and you're of the sneaking suspicion that thats the main reason she keeps them around, they don't seem to provide any sort of intrinsic company or security other than to divert her mind from the inherent dissatisfaction she finds hidden behind every, glimmering moment. but when the group is small, preferably just the two of you, sometimes three is alright, you'll see something in her eyes. it'll happen only briefly. but sometimes, just sometimes, the guard in her voice will drop, the smirk on her face erased. in these moments, you see the face of a lost, lonely dreamer, asking you gently, is this right? and please, someone tell me, where are we?