This is Girl speaking. I went to the gallery recently, with a poet. We promised to write each other a little something inspired by the day. This is what I wrote, a collection of the impressions I was left with and what our time together meant to me. It is not a story. I do not know what to call it. "A boy and a girl walk alongside each other, into a gallery. Surrounding them, are both faces and no faces at all, all trying to express the matter of ones shared humanity. In the lonely meadow, always the same but rarely acknowledged after dawn, there stands a much smaller being, who dreams of becoming more, to be the in-between of where day ends and night begins. Meanwhile there is the mountain. No matter the season, no matter the time, no one has ever reached its top, yet it is full of soul, the wind carrying those who long to fly so high. Then there are the cities, where loneliness somehow persists. In the street of Paris, the chaos and loudness of living is captured as stories fr...