I keep a lot of photographs. All of which captured a moment - a moment from which I was not there with her. I look at it when I miss her, when I am stressed, when I am happy, when I want to talk to her, when I can’t sleep at night, when I study, when I eat… when I breathe. Each photograph has her cute and childlike face. Her eyes glisten out of each picture with much expression. Her smile communicates contentment and mystery. Each photo has its own style. There was one taken when she was at the beach, another one at her place, another one at the games, and the others I do not know where she has taken those shots. Each photograph has its own story. One was taken after a game and another was when she was out with her friends. I do not know her name but it probably sounded so angelic.

I stare at her pictures every time that I can as I imagine us being in the same captured moment. I am not a stalker; I am just haunted by her anonymity. We met twice although no one dared to acquaint us. I remember that night, the first time we met, she gazed at me as I was leaving the place. She looked at me intently as if to say something while I failed to drop words that might have marked me in her heart.

The second time I met her, I was about to enter the place while she was about to leave. Still no one dared to introduce us. My heart sank in silence as that night darkened. I faked a smile at everybody and even to her. I wanted so much to talk to her but the scenario worked against me. I was able to drop some lines but not to her… to someone else although I did not wish to seize that person’s heart.

And now that I am writing this, I realized that I have lost that moment forever. No camera can capture back that moment, the only moment that was given to us. If only I had done something about it, then there would have been lesser walls or no walls at all that stand between us, and I could have really been with her in those photographs.