It is cold.

With my back tilted against bricks, I look out over display windows at night.

Large glass windows extend along the street's parked cars and shine, even though the customers since long are sleeping, or lie reflecting, embedded in the darkness of the city.

In the same window stand headless figures in noble lines.

They turn out for the night dressed in suits, headless, beautiful people.

My eyes subconsciously look for the shape of the human face when I meet with a glance.

Behind boxes and decoration stands a boy with beautiful clothes and white plastic for eyes.

Childhood's earliest festivities come back:
Feasts, galas, family reunions dressed in the same stiff clothes.

And like the boy, I too was surrounded by beautiful people without faces.