On bench I look at the world as if, for one small moment, I am outside of it, overlooking.
In the far off distance I see vague images of buildings.
The buildings are probably empty for the day, or maybe filled with students studying, or janitors cleaning.
A little closer I see a vast field, in hill form. It contains one willow tree, just waiting...wanting somebody to sit underneath it, but it is nighttime, and the ground is too dewy.
I notice the streetlights, lighting the concrete path.
The lights also draw attention to the mist in the air.
The mist makes the scene look so surreal.
Two students are standing under one of the streetlights.
Crying, holding hands, while the taller one kisses the other one of the forehead.
A story told through body language.
A boy on a bicycle passes them quickly, he is going downhill, what is his rush?
Three others pass them and walk up the hill.
A laugh is heard out of one of them and the other two join in.
In the building across the way, a series of windows.
In each lit window, a student plays an instrument.
A bassoon, a trombone, a piano, a violin, and the last one is just singing - alone.
Each person, in a world where only the instrument and them exist.
A cloud moves in the sky.
The full moon reveals itself for the first time all night.
It smiles, but only briefly.
It likes the attention..
A squirrel runs up the hill and taps me on the foot.
I exist too... I suppose.
