I don't wanna know that, babe.

So there is this girl who is not sad. She lets the wind caress her cheeks.

She listens to music when everything is just too noisy, she reads when the crowd will not shut up, when they will not think much. She is there and it seems like she is doing what the rest does, but she is thinking about how she wishes she could be like Simonetta Vespucci, about how now she gets even the songs she wishes she did not get.

She walks down the street and sees art in the way people's scarfs tremble with fear. She sees art when they play hide and seek with the cold, when a lonely tiny bird sings from the top of a high branch.
They say you only hear birds' humming when you are happy. She hears it, but she is not happy at all.