Post by nikki on Dec 24, 2006 21:34:18 GMT -5
Inhaling the cool evening air, Zanna grinned as she looked around Times Square. Though she had not been sick long enough to even be noticeable, she felt like it'd been forever since she had last come here. Smiling still, she danced rather than walked for a couple of steps and let the almost-night-air swallow her completely.
A few people moved around her, and shot strange stares in her direction--she was singing after all. Her voice was barely loud enough for a person standing right next to her to hear, but people often got so close they had no choice but to listen to her. At least she didn't sing too horribly; just a little bit badly. She wasn't a singer, of course, so it wasn't surprising that her voice wasn't perfect.
That evening, the brown-eyed girl was dressed in a long sleeved blue shirt bearing the words "Made In Bangladesh" in a large, chunky white font. It sort of reminded her of the kind of font called impact. Because she was so much of a geek that she knew what certain fonts looked like. One would probably assume that the shirt meant that she was born in the country of Bangladesh, but no. In fact, it was a band who she'd only seen perform once--but she loved them.
So anyway, on with the outfit.
Her jeans fit nicely to her legs, tracing them all the way down to the top of her low-rise Converse. They were a pale blue color and looked slightly worn since they were rather old. A few quotes had been scribbled across them, along with some drawings done by one of her old best friends.
Her hair, surprisingly, had been pulled back into two small pig-tails on either side of the nape of her neck. She thought she looked almost cute, but it was probably just in her mind.
[/size][/color]A few people moved around her, and shot strange stares in her direction--she was singing after all. Her voice was barely loud enough for a person standing right next to her to hear, but people often got so close they had no choice but to listen to her. At least she didn't sing too horribly; just a little bit badly. She wasn't a singer, of course, so it wasn't surprising that her voice wasn't perfect.
That evening, the brown-eyed girl was dressed in a long sleeved blue shirt bearing the words "Made In Bangladesh" in a large, chunky white font. It sort of reminded her of the kind of font called impact. Because she was so much of a geek that she knew what certain fonts looked like. One would probably assume that the shirt meant that she was born in the country of Bangladesh, but no. In fact, it was a band who she'd only seen perform once--but she loved them.
So anyway, on with the outfit.
Her jeans fit nicely to her legs, tracing them all the way down to the top of her low-rise Converse. They were a pale blue color and looked slightly worn since they were rather old. A few quotes had been scribbled across them, along with some drawings done by one of her old best friends.
Her hair, surprisingly, had been pulled back into two small pig-tails on either side of the nape of her neck. She thought she looked almost cute, but it was probably just in her mind.
