anoi fest Anoi Fest was odd. It was not just her name, which she found (personally) rather oriental with a distinctive mystic ring to it. It was everything about her very oblivious existence that screamed, though not too noticeably, of evidence of a freak of nature. Not that Anoi was a prominent one, but it was the people who happened to stumble over her somewhere in their hugely unfortunate lives who grudgingly discovered that truth.

Anoi had a simple life and an even simpler mind. In fact, her life revolved around a few non-substantial obsessions; namely her violin Jonathan who was named after her brief online fling mate when she was barely thirteen a year ago, becoming a tall and sexy popstar, and hating her father. You couldn't tell all that just by observation of course. There was nothing much to see in the first place. People did not remember Anoi by her head, it was a small black head, of limp hay-like hair, nor her disproportionate facial features -- they hung precariously on her tiny face, as if she had stuck them on herself in the wrong size.

She might not have been remembered at all.  ¶ 12:12 AM