(September 2010)
I stood still here, as still as I could. I watched everyone go by, trying to get things done as soon as they could in this little alley, lined with copiers and people and the smell of ink.
Where are we all going?
Why are we moving so quickly, rushing? When it comes to telling people we love them, we make them wait, we don't tell them how we really feel and just watch them go on and make them wonder. Why then, of all things to give priority to, it's the mundane that we may not remember in detail when we're older.
Why do we leave the people we love the most crying?
What's the rush?
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