The Feistiness Of Bees

You can’t just go to people and tell them you find them interesting. They’d get the wrong idea.

So you stay put and observe.

Not the creepy guy in the bushes kind of observing but more like the cheetah was it? That animal that sits and waits for hours and hours … No, maybe not. But more like the private investigator who doesn’t judge but just observes, takes notes and then portrays the object of his investigation to his employer.

This is what I do with this woman.

We are not friends. In fact, I am pretty sure she hasn’t noticed me even if we crossed paths so many times. She always seemed to be in the middle of something, too busy to observe. Joke’s on her, I guess. Even if, most of the times she is surrounded by people, she doesn’t strike me like the kind of person who’d have friends. Real friends. Those she’d cry on the phone with over a boy. Because this woman cannot cry. Not because there is something wrong with her tear ducts but because no one in the world would dare to hurt this woman. Because they would die or be crippled forever. This woman, in all her 1.6 m, seems utterly capable of making that happen.

She seems determined, unshakable, pure will.

Her voice is clear, she always says things right. She is not a bully but could take you on, whoever you’d be. Fearless, a true conqueror.

Did I wake your interest? Are you curious to know how she looks? After all, we are living in the Instagram era.

There is absolutely nothing spectacular about her looks. She is average. She dresses like a woman, walks like a woman. Except… Except for that look on her brown eyes. It’s larger than life. It’s pure and wholesome. It contains that spark, the spark of beginning of times, the one a child is born with. And also the feistiness of bees, that strength you’d want by your side when the world ends.

When she talks, she creates a world around herself. It happened more than once that I passed by while she was conversating with someone. She didn’t stop to acknowledge me even if our eyes locked for a second. More than that, her words seemed to knowingly wander off me. It was like walking outside of those exclusive clubs people queue to get in.

This is her. Unaltered. Decisively wonderful.

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