I was walking on the street. People keot passing me. Stuff in their hand varied.

Apple. Pie. A bag of grocery. Cell phone. Books. Soft drinks. Cigarete. Handbag.

Common things. Hardly interesting.

A girl stood in the cross, waiting for the car passing by her. After the car finished the final line of her left hand, she hurried walking to the opposite side. She was in a jean, which looked quite cool. But what she had in her hand was a bottle of ink, with a pen in another hand.

I felt curious. For these too were some stationary out of date. None would use an ink pen anymore. Why would a young lady like to buy it?

Wish I could have asked her.