Her walls were not all self-imposed. She was deaf. Her world was silent not by choice, but by design.Another candle. A whispered prayer to Valentine and Jude. To lovers and desperate causes.The saints don't listen. They don't exist. But we do.I followed her home that night. Through crowded streets and murky pathways through the park. She moved as one possessed with the knowledge that she is invisible to those around her. So many invisible people in this city! My stone heart aches to see them, alone by their own design. With my knowing eyes, I can see their souls crying out silently, "See me! Notice me!" But they move on alone. They fold their arms around their shoulders and hug themselves as protection. Even in the warmth of the summer sun they act as though they're freezing. I can see that the city has turned them cold from the inside outside. Upside down.Watching her, I realize something about these invisible people. They think, they believe that they're at peace with themselves.. As Emilywalked up to her, she noticed two women walking away. Had Stacey beentalking to them, she asked herself. She looked up at her sister andsmiled. "Hey Stace!" Stacey Lockhart smiled when she saw her sister. "Great show,girly," she said. "You had those tweens eating out of the palm of yourhand." Emily flinched at the word tween. She knew in a way it probablyshouldn't matter since this wasn't her real life, but she was tryingvery hard to be taken seriously as an artist, even if she was a bitflighty at times. Calling her audience tweens was a bit insulting toboth the audience and her. Her CD and iTunes sales proved she skewed toolder teens and the college crowd more these days than when she'd firstbroke big two years ago. This wasn't what she'd come looking for hersister for, though. "Who were those women?" she asked as she forced the confusingdual identity thoughts from her mind. Stacey looked over her shoulder at the two women. "Oh, them?They.
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