Conversations with a broken lady #3

It was raining that day. She didn’t have to say a word, she had a look in her eyes that made me understand what was wrong, feel what she was feeling.
“You know, I’ve never liked my eyes ” she dare to tell me, “I see people with beautiful eyes every day; green, blue, even a kind of yellow I never knew about, and me, I am here with my ordinary brown eyes. They say that you can see the soul of a person within their eyes, all these people I meet every day may have such a good soul! Clear like water, pure like childhood. But I’m not like them, I feel like I don’t fit correctly.”
“Would you stop hurting yourself at least for once? ” I told her, “you complain about your eyes but you don’t know that they inspire thousand and thousands of poems, like Greek goddesses or strange planets. Beauty can not be define, trust me I’ve tried to. And you just can’t say that your eyes aren’t part of all this natural beauty you talk about, brown is the color of the earth, our mother and the beginning of all fights. I look into your eyes, and I found thousands of questions, but certainty too, I can feel your soul and I know it’s the purest I’ve ever seen. You need to keep fighting all this rules society wants to impose you and worry less. You need to keep the heart alive.”

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