We may never know.

The sky was grey, murky and depressing. The mid February weather caused a great demand of winter clothes for the London people. All wrapped warm in thick, woollen scarves, chunky socks with big boots. Cuddled in long, worn coats in dark colours. Wind blew heavily around the buildings. Compressing the insides into small, safe havens of comfort. People huddled across zebra crossings, waddling on their feet waiting for the light to go red and the air polluting cars to stop. Their chatter echoing through the streets bouncing off of the crooks of alleyways. As they walked they cradled their vivaciously patterned coffee holders, warming their hands wrapped in cream mittens. Strands of hair blowing forcefully around sharp chins and square foreheads, blinding lazy eyes momentarily. 

In the midst of it all was a women, not a conforming women yet still an unnoticed  one. Her hair tied up high in a knot unlike the countless other girls who kept it stuck to their head with a hat, to protect their ears and necks from the cold. Her arms mostly bare in a boxy t-shirt, a thin silky scarf loosely hanging from her neck. Thick black tights clung to her legs, her thighs covered by a tight tartan skirt. Confidently she strutted down the curb, her height meaning she towered over most of the people around her. Still they barely glanced at her for a second. What made her so immune to people's judgey looks ? 

Perhaps it was the way she owned it. We may never know. 

Along with this girl another intriguing character followed closely behind her. A short round man, a beard that almost reached his chest decorated like a christmas tree with silver hairs. A jolly smile spread across his mouth not moving. It seemed he could be hit by a car and that smile wouldn't budge. His smile seemed to be the only thing that made him different from the rest of the people walking down the street. Other then that he was dressed almost the same as the rest of them: mucky brown work boots, a bright red hat dangling of his head with a little cotton ball attached, a thick plaid scarf strangling him and a black knee length coat hugging him tightly. Why was he so happy on a day so dreary? We may never know.

Ahead of our two characters was a young women dragging behind her a rambunctious toddler. Clearly making quite a scene. His red face streamed with tears as he screamed in words that didn't seem English. His mother clearly struggling to control him as she dragged him weakly. Her arms almost giving way. Her eyes dragged about a mile behind her, the bags dark and heavy. Her blueness of them dulled by the sky, streaky blonde hair just peaking through a beanie. A snug red coat wrapped around her but unbuttoned. Her son almost near identical to her. His blonde hair tucked in a small blue hat, a puffy red coat sticking to him uncomfortably with sweat. Although it did bring out his piercing blue eyes. Onlookers stared at the two with dismay. Obviously annoyed that the mum couldn't control her child. She felt the stares but bravely kept her head up high despite the embarrassment she felt. Why she did this? We may never know. 

At the very back of all of them walked a man. Thick black curly hair protruding from his head. His dark complexation contrasting the grey/white sky. His brown eyes darker then his very own brown mittens he was wearing. They were warm like him, they emitted a blazing heat on such an icy day. Headphones tried to flatten his curls and just about did in order to stay on his head. He bounced down the street. His head jiggling from side to side as his massive clown like feet took huge steps. His attitude separated from everyone else who could barely utter a sentence so early in the morning let alone half dance down the street to a poppy beat. He didn't care that he looked a fool in a silver puffy jacket as he sauntered through the crowd. He embodied everything a person wasn't in the morning. Peppy, happy and energised. Why did he act like this? We may never know. 

We can gain a lot from simply looking at someone but not everything.