The Stranger

I spy with my little eye… what? Oh, just a pink stranger waiting for the bus. She looks fairly young, just a teenager. It’s difficult not to look at her. Her hair is pink, her trousers, her blouse, her lipstick. This must be a statement. She reminds me of a doll. It’s as if she hides her true self beneath that ocean of colour. She wants to be noticed. Now, that’s easy. But the strange part is that she only wants her body to be noticed. I take it as a declaration of the kind ‘I’m in no mood for deep conversation. I need to explore my femininity and, besides, these clothes are in at the moment.’ I cannot help but notice she’s not smiling, despite of all the pink.