I have very funny ability to never ever fall in love with "real" girls, but I sometimes fall in love for few seconds, minutes or maybe hour, for some complete stranger, that strikes me, with some unexpected magic. Few days ago, I fall in love with one girl in the train, that had just so interesting voice. :) But todays crash, it was really something. I was going to the shop and one interesting girl was walking around with some suitcase on the wheels, like she just arrived from another country . . . She looks that way. She was not exactly pretty in classical way, her eyes were maybe to big, her nose also and her face seems little frighten. . . . But she just had that "something" in her. But I just pass her. After an hour of shopping i was waiting at the bus station, for the bus and suddenly, she arrieved here all of sudden! I felt pretty suprised and had one of my, "this couldnt be coincidence" moments. I was actually considered to tell her something, which is something I never did . . . . But I didnt say anything. I just enjoyed all the possibilities . . . . What could be, what could be not . . . . All the ways, that we could walk together. All the words she could tell me, to back off. :) I didnt do anything, just stare at her little, cause bus was delayed a little.
But what was most magicall, was what happened when she arrieved at the bus station and noticed, that bus will not come sooner than in ten minutes. . . . . She opened her suitcase, take some papers and started to sketch all the buildings around in complete silence! It was wonderfull. I never saw anyone doing this ever before. It was pure magic and only add to my fascination about her and all the "what ifs." Of course I didnt do anything. Because, what if she wasnt so interesting as it seems? It would ruin this great moment . . . . So I just entered the bus, when he arrieved. And she was so obssesed with drawings, that she stayed on the bus station. All I know is, she could be still there, after few hours. :)
Oh, all this magic of what ifs in the air . . . .