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She pulled the laces of her Chuck's. She plugged in the earphones and flicked the switch to 'On'. It was Monday morning, and the sun rays mixed with the UV rays -- that the ozone layer could not block anymore as it had a hole, the size of all the hair spray combined, in it -- and my, was it warm or what? She slipped on her Wayfarers and she walked off with only RM10 in her pockets. She walked to the LRT station, and she got on the next train to KLCC. She got off the train, and she bought herself a box of cigarettes and walked off into the park with a book, "A Long Way Down" by Nick Hornby.
Once again, she was in the sun as she walked into the park. She then found a place to sit, open her book and smoke her cigarettes; blackening her lungs, cleansing her eyes and shielding her from the sun. After an hour, she got up, walked back, and got on the train home back to Setiawangsa.
She had on an oversized Beatles t-shirt tucked into her skinny jeans, belted. Dozens of bracelets adorned her wrists and hair falling into her heavily eye-linered eyes.
She walked past the mosque. She felt the usual chills whenever she walked by it. And quickened her pace on home, head down to hide from the sun but whenever a car or a motorcycle pass by, she couldn't help but look, in instinct.
She walked through the gates, and sat down at the porch.
What was the point of her trip?
All she wanted was people to look at her.
To notice.
Once again, she was in the sun as she walked into the park. She then found a place to sit, open her book and smoke her cigarettes; blackening her lungs, cleansing her eyes and shielding her from the sun. After an hour, she got up, walked back, and got on the train home back to Setiawangsa.
She had on an oversized Beatles t-shirt tucked into her skinny jeans, belted. Dozens of bracelets adorned her wrists and hair falling into her heavily eye-linered eyes.
She walked past the mosque. She felt the usual chills whenever she walked by it. And quickened her pace on home, head down to hide from the sun but whenever a car or a motorcycle pass by, she couldn't help but look, in instinct.
She walked through the gates, and sat down at the porch.
What was the point of her trip?
All she wanted was people to look at her.
To notice.
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