Sidewalk stories

Happiness, always a by-product

She looks happy, I can tell. Her cheeks were red and a smile was constantly shown from her rosy lips. When people passed her by, she would looked up to them and greeted with the sweetest “good morning” ever. But why they call her crazy? Definitely the society does need no more too happy and too joyful person. I know she wears those awful way-out dress, definitely looks very stressful to those trendy pedestrians with their cute little dogs and branded apparels. I know she smells bad, too. But she’s happy, and that’s more expensive than your celebrity-labelled fragrances. I would definitely buy those if they can make me happy. I glanced over that sweet lady for the last time this morning and jumped into a stopping tram. While I threw away my cig’s butt, I was also thinking to myself, “I would also like to be crazy and happy.”

So I don’t have to think about you and the world. You as in love and the world as in the world.

And like always, it is to be continued. Someday.


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