Scent of a Woman

Went to the library today as usual, normally I would walk the length of the hall, pass the row of computers, turn left, and take the elevator up to the 7th, 8th or 9th floor, but recently I found myself stopping at the 3rd. I don't know what it is that makes me linger there, perhaps it is the light, somehow it feels cozier.

After an hour or two I went down to the ground-floor, and there I saw her. She was just standing there, eyes fixed on the monitor. I was caught off guard again, I wasn't sure if she was her, but I would not forgive myself if I didn't even tap on her shoulder.

She came back to fetch some books which she couldn't find in Spain. And I can't give you a reasonable explanation as to why when I reached the 3rd floor, turn immediately right and walked along the walls of books towards my seat, I picked up an aroma of Spain.

Scenic

I took the train back home a day prior to the election day. Before I reached the station I thought it would be packed with heads eagering to carry out their rights, instead I was shocked to find out about the state of political apathy, well, I can surely understand the dislike towards politics in Taiwan, but the unwillingness to hold on to one's own right is beyond all comprehension, and don't justify yourselves with exams and papers or that kind of shit while watching your goddamn stupid telly programs where a bunch of stupid teens make fun of each other or like rubbish, because I'm not less stressed than you're.

Anyway, let's get back to the train station. So I got this nice window seat for all my through-the-framed-glass pleasure. The train pulled in one of the stations, the curtain slowly disappeared and revealed the scene - a deserted and partly darkened bench next to a lamppost. Then among the lot that walked into the stage was a female character who first vanished to the other edge, but then decided to come back looking to both directions as if she was waiting for someone, or probably just unsure about whether this was her train, with a look that tells you that that someone failed to show up.

Upon not getting a satisfying answer from her cellphone, she stood there for a while, not knowing what to do, and kept her glances to one side as though trying to avert eye contact with the audience, an attempt to hide her thoughts from the outside world perhaps, out of gloom or custom we do not know, for masquerading our feelings is no alien practice. So, what do to now? That is the question. And then perhaps a decision had been made, for she sat down on one edge of the bench. Then with a humming sound, the platform was brought back to life and slowly pulled the scene away while she still looked to the side, and filled it with darkness.