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Who is this sassy lost child
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There was a girl. Cristo knew her but didn't know her; Nadia was in the grade ahead of him at Cochise and had a scary boyfriend, not to mention something of an intimidating personality all on her own. He didn't mind watching her though, as she herself watched the rest of the world through a camera lens. Confident people were always interesting, the way they seemed to not notice the world around them at all in pursuit of whatever they were doing. He sometimes wondered if that was an advantage to them or not.

He drew one leg up to his chest and looped his arms around it, resting his chin on his knee. Was Nadia after nature photography? Pictures of Kingman specifically? Maybe she had no goal in mind right now and was just letting things take their course, like he'd been with his walk through the park.

He saw classmates out like this sometimes, but usually didn't speak to them unless they approached him first. It was sort of hard to explain that you'd noticed someone because you were watching everybody who went by without sounding like some kind of creep. It was hard to explain anything about people-watching at all to most people, really, much less convince them that it was something everyone did unconsciously every day. Nobody wanted to think about the fact that their personal bubble was always getting invaded, whether they were aware of it or not. Going off of what he knew of Nadia already, Cristo could assume that she felt much the same way as most people.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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I could live in the world just like a stranger · Liberty Park