There are lost people here. Sometimes we sit on the pavement, arms around our knees, and stare out at nothing. Sometimes we're trying to think, or realize we haven't thought so well in a long tie. We walk barefoot over the perfectly mown grass and look up at the straggling dearth of leaves in the trees. A bag beside us, we sit outside, cold, but more awake than we've been in a while. We wish someone might come across us, ask us. Go for a walk and think and talk- about what, we aren't sure. We want to feel alive again, like we did that day with the wind in our hair and the smell of the sea all around us. Unbeknowst to us, from a window, someone sees. They turn away, they almost come down to speak. When they look back again,we have disappeared.