The city’s streets are festively lighted, full
of laughter like a fairy tale. On vacation lots of people come to the “soft
breeze” city, as the town is known, searching for it’s colorful caring life. It’s December and December is
the month to hope for a better year to come; the month in which the
hopeful sparkles on the children’s eyes spreads contagiously to everyone's.
Wrapped in colorful papers toys
hold hope, the promise of laughter and that today’s happiness could mean
happiness ever after.
Softly the fake snow seems to melt from above the
city’s central stage, there’s a fog of lights surrounding
the city’s singers.
Another December, the far away stars are beyond the gods, because it’s Christmas and the blinking of artificial lights blinds the sky.
On the benches that surrounds the stage, near the bicolor stones of the sidewalk, away from the crowd of late buyers, a lady
sits alone.
The lady is very tiny and weak. On her thin, short and bleached hair she wears some bandages hiding an unimportant wound. It’s possible
to see her shaking, even from the distance; hopelessly she lays on her knees as
she looks at her bare feet and can’t help but make a wish to Santa.
The lady’s wish isn’t made of written,
spoken or thinkable words, but her message echoes, louder than the
powerful speakers that amplifies the voice of those who can sing. She holds the antitheses of a song all curled up, and from her silent wish a tear springs, slowly slides and
fall.
If there weren’t so many artificial
lights in this city, there would be stars available in the sky, instead the only ones visible are the ones money can buy. It’s clear she can’t afford one.
The lady’s wish is only a Christmas
Star. Is She going to have Christmas?
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