Eyes are the windows to the Soul

Even with masks on

They are enough


“You are…” this young man said in the Church, a man I don’t know

“Yes?” I asked him, looking at him, my eyes were soft, wondering what he wanted to say. They lost that look of haughtiness after Communion, the way I tend to look when a strange man were to speak to me in the past, as if he must be wanting something.

He did not reply, nor finish his sentence, but left the Church, with a smile.

But I felt like he saw me, for who I really am, before I even know whom I am becoming

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