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callsmith discovered this in Music
•1 reviews since Jul 15, 2007
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callsmith discovered 12 months ago
Rag Doll location video (click link above).
This was some years ago, in Asia. She was only seventeen. Had left school three years earlier. Her mother couldn't afford to pay any more. I met her in a village outdoor vegetable market, where she was babysitting her mother's little stall. She was reading a book. The only person in the huge market reading a book. And she was so graceful, intelligent, beautiful and poor, wearing hand-me-downs.
Others treated her as a rag doll.
I introduced myself, in her language, but she was too shy to respond. Over a few weeks I saw her there again, and always dropped by to say hello. She had no phone, so I could never call her. Gradually she started to respond to me. Our conversations were very simple, in her language, aided with a bilingual dictionary. Over the next three months our simple conversations lengthened, grew into walks together around the village, and onto the pathways stretching through the adjoining rice fields.
We both started to look forward to these meetings.
One day we were together for eight hours. I went on the bus with her to a larger, neighboring village, and in a big store I bought her a first knapsack, and some books to read, all of which she chose herself, from all the other things I could have bought her in that store.
Seeing her around was always hit and miss. But just one smile from her made up for the loss felt of not seeing her for two weeks. Every time I saw her, and even other times when thinking about her, my heart just went out to her.
Was able to take a couple of pictures of her. Knew she was looking for work, in a factory, in an even bigger village.
Then, three months after I met her, she just disappeared, as did her mother's stall. I looked for her in different places, kept my eye out for her. Never saw her. I had to leave the area myself, four months later.
Have never been able to go back there since.
She was modest, humble, without guile, her spirit was so fresh, genuine. Her eyes, her gazes, connecting laughters, her virtuousness and smiles, her patience struggling, but always striving, to communicate with me through multiple barriers, itself spoke so much to me.
A butterfly that fluttered into view, partly by its own will, partly by the will of the wind, saw me, came closer, briefly hovered close to me, unafraid, and then left, forever... I was never able to see her again... I just hope she's fine...still miss her...wonder about her...and know I always will....
