Saturday, Dec 29, 2004 - 4:49 p.m.
Five storeys up in an external corridor, a boy sits alone at a table overlooking the plaza. Before him are two empty chairs, a half empty cup of coffee, and his glasses, unfolded and lost without its owner. He has always enjoyed his solitude; indeed he has always seeked it for a strange form of gratification, but today he does not quite know what to do with it.
He looks down the length of the corridor; its corners are diagonals that stretch inwards and converge at a point. A girl emerges from that point and walks towards him, and he imagines the click of her heels against the stone floor. He knows who the girl is - it is someone he has wanted for a long time. He puts on his glasses, and with the clarity of vision, sees that there is nothing there.
The son's question: "At what age then, does naivete - the belief that there is only one girl out there for you, leave a boy?"