I have seen you a long time ago: sitting on a high roof, your fiery red hair burning like a flame in the sunset, your eyes burning when you look into the distance, but when you look back, you only see calmness and indifference.
You always keep your eyes closed when walking. When you open them, you are looking, but your eyes are empty and tired, and you see nothing. We who pass in front of you are just the background next to your pupils, and your eyes don't even stay for a moment. All you really see is a grayish white. There are only two words in the gray: death of thirst.