I found this girl on the street a couple of weeks ago, right outside my building.
My initial instinct was to walk past her, because I had no idea what she was.
Then I thought I should slow down, and at least look at her.
The next thought was: “I’ll never be able to lift her anyway. I bet she weighs a ton.”
Then I picked her up, and carried her upstairs. A man in the elevator said, “What is that?” and I said, “I don’t know.”
I don’t understand “art” that well but because she is right next to my desk, I look at her more and more.
Tonight I thought:
I’ll never know her history.
And I’ll never know mine.
But then I thought, wait– Maybe I do know who she is.
She might be Yevtushenko’s Ksiusha.