There are concepts of beauty. Vibrant, decadent, startling, sensual, or bland. Yet the girl at the bus stop bench doesn't seem to embody them, as much as she simply rather crafts an entirely new concept of what it is we find beautiful. Her eyes invite you. So does her smile. You sense something off, an emptiness lurking behind her eyes, a fragility betraying her youth. And an inescapeable pull of her ephemeral beauty.

Would you like to spend a sweet morning with your girlfriend?

Would you join me for tea and talk about.. well, anything at all?