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I sit in the sun after ages. It isn't too hot, because it's February. There is a wind, but not enough to make the pages of my book flutter. I can smell the citrus of the orange I ate on my hands, the peels lie discarded at my feet. I read my book, and a little girl comes up to me. She makes incoherent sounds and steals my bookmark. I let her. I talk to her, even though I know she won't understand a thing. In her eyes I see all the possibilities that reside within a childhood. Another kid plays ball with his grandfather while an old man with no children and a dead wife watches. There are sounds which I can’t hear because I'm listening to songs I used to love but haven't heard in four years. I see a wife call her husband and ask, "Did you have lunch yet?" When he says yes, she smiles and then opens her own lunchbox. I'm so far away from home, yet I could sit here and watch these people forever. I could sit here in the sun forever. I want to tell every person who sits with me how much wonder they've brought in my life just by existing. Nothing fits. We all wear different colored shirts and think of each other in a different way. We are all forgotten pieces of the world. Nothing fits yet everything is complete.