We ran a mile on the soccer field yesterday. The paintball tent that used to be at the end of the field is no longer existent. However, in its place, there is a patch of my favorite weed flowers. It's of the same kind that I was playing with the first week. I like to think that that patch is there and because of me. It's probably not though.
I am back. I'm sitting on a bench at the Plaza de Espana. It's quite nice really. Everything looks so clear and pretty through my new glasses. I love the lighting here. It's so picturesque. It's so gorgeous. I often imagine what this place looked like back in it's glory day.
What if there was a girl my age? What did she think? How did she feel? Did she ever wonder if there truly is a God? Did she like a boy that lived on the complex? A soldier? Was their love typical legend forbiddeness? I wonder. Did she read? Did she like to write? Did she ever wonder about someone like me? Maybe she had a beautiful mind worth uncovering, but she was so looked down upon or lowly or unbeautiful that no one ever took the time to?
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