For  whisperclaw

I took a trip to Koslava many years ago, having read in a travel magazine about its fountains and historic buildings. I took many pictures, I took a trip to the history museum and visited the shops, I was happy to be caught up in the hustle and bustle of city life without any of its hurry and stress.

I saw a girl, high, high up on a balcony when I stopped at a sandwich shop for a bite to eat. It was noon time and the sun was catching along her hair just so, giving it an almost ethereal radiant gleam. I was eating an egg sandwich, and I just watched her. Everyone else had their heads down, in their phones, completely absorbed in their own digital havens, but she seemed to be content just to watch, to enjoy the moment without any distractions.

Something about her made me sad, yet nostalgic for something I couldn’t quite describe, almost as if I was experiencing a new emotion yet to be discovered. When I left the shop I kept an eye out, but never saw her again.

A few days later, I boarded my train, leaving Koslava and its fountains, galleries, and beautiful buildings. I often wonder about that girl I saw whenever I read or hear about Koslava, who she was, the story of her life. A strange beautiful phantom who I will never see again, except for the brief snapshot of a moment of time in her life that I have stored to memory