My Writen Painted felt Authobiography ;)

His eyes

One of those days where her own attitude towards life was the extraordinary
cause nothing out of the habitual knocked the door.
Sunny, humid weather.
Meals being cooked and this delicious stew impregnating the whole interior’s air.
She needed a coffee, and some silence
The coffee shop was not the most yogic place to relax the mind, but somehow she needed to go.
Astonishing smell covered by this nonstop coffee makers that play their own music aloud.
Messy newspapers on some tables
and a few empty cups uncleaned
And, he entered…
Long hair, shorts, untidy but dainty.
His features were splendid but she couldn’t stop staring at his eyes
Deep, honey, fascinating intense eyes
but so so sweet….
He looked at her and stared.
When she realized this, nervously looked down.
He ordered a coffee and sat down facing her a few tables away and started to write.
His eyes were sad.
She had a feeling he was unhappy with the world he saw outside, as it happens to her, but she didn’t know for sure, cause she didn’t know him.
But somehow she felt he was a very well known stranger.
She just wanted to hug him and tell him it’s ok, but remained in silence.
He approached her and gave her a note
‘ I’m back to me, after a long life search’
‘Silence is what I have’
‘but a whole new world is still undiscovered ahead of me, in case you feel like walking’….

She remained in silence

Sometimes words are not required to whisper.

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