In a beautiful park, there’s a crowd of people. They are all so vastly different, but connected one way or another. They interact with each other, moving among the different smaller groups, the inner circles, the outer circles, and sometimes standing on their own doing their own thing. They are all living life; the good, the bad and the ugly. Together.

Suddenly, one of the women in the crowd stops moving, stops talking, stops interacting. She stands there, perfectly still, as though she’s turned to stone. She’s realized she’s not a part of the crowd, not really. She’s nothing more than an outsider, an invader. Why did she previously think she was a part of them? Because of their kindness. Their false faces. Their connections to each other genuine to all but her. Why couldn’t she see it before? She sees it now.

The futility of her very existence strikes deep in her heart. The crowd continues to live their lives around her, hustling, bustling, laughing, crying, and most of all, connecting. If they take any notice of this new statue, it’s only to wonder if it’s always been there and they just didn’t notice.

She’s not made of stone. Rather, she’s fragile. She gradually begins to disappear as grains of sand leave her body and get caught in the breeze, swirling around the the people in the park. More and more sand takes flight until she is nothing more than a round pillar that is shrinking to nothing. No one notices the ethereal fingers of sand in the wind caressing their arms, their faces, a desperate cry to be loved and wanted. The wind overtakes what little life is left and shifts the sands away from the crowd. The sand cries out as it’s ripped away from humanity, but there is no sound. Eventually it’s simply gone.

And no one noticed.


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