Her lips lie parched in between the urge to voice her thoughts. But she thinks and she lets it be, not succumbing to the minds pressure to release what she feels. She stares blankly ahead, the reflections on her glass making it clear as to what she is looking at. It is a fearless composed stare, into nothingness. The loose strands of hair in front of her eyes cloud her view just so much as to hide from it but not be completely oblivious to it either. She feels blank, a bit lost, but firm. At first glance, the stare stands for nothing. However, when one observes closely, it seems like a distracted stare. A stare having no meaning. A blank yet firm, a content yet a seemingly calm resolving kind of look. The thickness of her glasses converge the strength of her stare.
The background fades quietly in the hindsight, leaving her alone. The shadow cast by the round corners of her nose try to hide the mole, but the mole stands out strikingly and quite aesthetically so. The corners of her lips set the teasers in a gentle reprise type of way. The hair has drowned the spectacle arms, the hair of thought drowning the instrument that holds the vision place. Yet the vision stays firm, or does it? It stays calm at least, not quivering in the fear of uncertainty. Controlling this fear, is not inherent of her, rather indifference has played its part in contributing to the calmness.
She is lost in the blankness. She wants to retire from this thinking, from this thought of thinking. She just wants to be. To close this world in front of her. But yet she stares. And she stares fearlessly. But that too not with negativity or malice or anger. She just stares. But there is no innocence in the stare. There is a sense of all knowing. A sense of acceptance. A sense of disappointment. A sense of shrug. Yet she stares. There is strength in her eyes. Or is there? Or just a tired sense of acceptance? A deep desire to change things somehow, rests faintly in the background. If you stare right back into her eyes, you would notice that. The pupils tilt towards an idea, the passing thought of an idea. As it goes and fades in the hindsight, the pupils follow it from the side, till it vanishes completely. The eyes stare intently waiting for the idea to resurface. But it doesn’t. It stays as a mirage, something which would vanish if you try too hard for it. Something subtle. Something balanced and poised. Something like her very own stare.
There is no hint of a smile, but no remorse or regret. The look just rests quietly over the circumstances, over the situation. The cause of the look has sunk in and disappeared but it feels as if the impression has been left behind. Maybe she’s waiting for something. Something to change. Some revolution. Something that would make everything right. There is a confusion. Not with her. But the observer. But she has created the confusion. She looks lost, but content at the same time, and yet these two expressions do not complete her picture. There is something more to it, something hidden, something important, something rare. Something more deep than what it seems to be. Something subtle. Something worthy. And meaningful. Like a resolve. But not a determined one. She is above the human traits of determination, passion, attitude et al. It is just a resolve. A calm one.
The background fades quietly in the hindsight, leaving her alone. The shadow cast by the round corners of her nose try to hide the mole, but the mole stands out strikingly and quite aesthetically so. The corners of her lips set the teasers in a gentle reprise type of way. The hair has drowned the spectacle arms, the hair of thought drowning the instrument that holds the vision place. Yet the vision stays firm, or does it? It stays calm at least, not quivering in the fear of uncertainty. Controlling this fear, is not inherent of her, rather indifference has played its part in contributing to the calmness.
She is lost in the blankness. She wants to retire from this thinking, from this thought of thinking. She just wants to be. To close this world in front of her. But yet she stares. And she stares fearlessly. But that too not with negativity or malice or anger. She just stares. But there is no innocence in the stare. There is a sense of all knowing. A sense of acceptance. A sense of disappointment. A sense of shrug. Yet she stares. There is strength in her eyes. Or is there? Or just a tired sense of acceptance? A deep desire to change things somehow, rests faintly in the background. If you stare right back into her eyes, you would notice that. The pupils tilt towards an idea, the passing thought of an idea. As it goes and fades in the hindsight, the pupils follow it from the side, till it vanishes completely. The eyes stare intently waiting for the idea to resurface. But it doesn’t. It stays as a mirage, something which would vanish if you try too hard for it. Something subtle. Something balanced and poised. Something like her very own stare.
There is no hint of a smile, but no remorse or regret. The look just rests quietly over the circumstances, over the situation. The cause of the look has sunk in and disappeared but it feels as if the impression has been left behind. Maybe she’s waiting for something. Something to change. Some revolution. Something that would make everything right. There is a confusion. Not with her. But the observer. But she has created the confusion. She looks lost, but content at the same time, and yet these two expressions do not complete her picture. There is something more to it, something hidden, something important, something rare. Something more deep than what it seems to be. Something subtle. Something worthy. And meaningful. Like a resolve. But not a determined one. She is above the human traits of determination, passion, attitude et al. It is just a resolve. A calm one.
