and well.

Anoi Fest was odd. It was not just her name, which she found (personally) rather oriental with a distinctive mystic ring to it. It was everything about her very oblivious existence that screamed, though not too noticeably, of evidence of a freak of nature. Not that Anoi was a prominent one, but it was the people who happened to stumble over her somewhere in their hugely unfortunate lives who grudgingly discovered that truth.Anoi had a simple life and an even simpler mind. In fact, her life revolved around a few non-substantial obsessions; namely her violin Jonathan who was named after her brief online fling mate when she was barely thirteen a year ago, becoming a tall and sexy popstar, and hating her father. You couldn't tell all that just by observation of course. There was nothing much to see in the first place. People did not remember Anoi by her head, it was a small black head, of limp hay-like hair, nor her disproportionate facial features -- they hung precariously on her tiny face, as if she had stuck them on herself in the wrong size. She might not have been remembered at all.

jonk.

and so it goes.

there are those times you look around. and in this class room, with the algae green tiles that cool the air, you can't help but notice that these adolescent individuals really do enjoy each other's company. big hearts big heads big laughs big hair, differences aside, these students of 14 do not simply thrive in company. like vines their nuances are amplified in arabesques yet they advance in unity. except, perhaps, for that skinny, greasey haired girl in the furthest corner of the class room. they tend to gleam over her, around her, and don't realise she's there. she's done nothing, nothing at all. but it's a perfectly good waste of classroom space.

she's silent and she looks cradled by dreams with those sleepy eyes. her hands keep to themselves and they are lonely. it might be, that her nose and chapped lips are swollen slightly to weigh her frail figure down, for she's shivers in bones and evanescent as a snowflake. though not quite as mesmirizing.

but she doesn't always know, just as you never will know yourself completely. stop the rain. find the anoi fest in you.

rach.