Right at the corner, in the moving metal scrap - train - I saw her sitting with her eyes fixed on mobile phone in hand. She straightened her back and looked around for minute giving rest to her eyes; no, I think she gave rest to her phone. One, two, three, I counted; asking me what ? She winked. In sometime she closed her eyes and laid back over the uncomfortable train seat. She smiled with her eyes closed With her lips parting and there was pearls between the bars. She waved her body in order to adjust her position in the bad engineered train seat, thanks to the engineers the prettiest wave I have ever seen.

Bored of the real world she lighted her mobile phone and jumped back into her utopia. There was no movement for a minute and again she bloomed with a laugh, appreciate the one who cracked the joke, I could not take my eyes off until the storm of roses stopped; she suddenly stopped her laugh and turned serious.

Never I have thought that the rattle of the train could be a melody of beauty. The wind sang the song of the journey and her hair dance to the rhythm of the song on her forehead. It was quite a show. No fancy stuffs, no gala, no party, no musicians, no glamour, just harmony, peace and the journey. She looked soulfully enchanting.