This will be the story of Elinor "Ned" Balu. I met her about three years ago, when I was twenty-one and majorly stuck in a South German university town. Looking back, I can safely say I found myself there by mistake. That someone like Ned should have ever erred into that Godforsaken, prim, completely decorative place I call a strike of mad luck.
I want to write about how I found her and how I lost her, and what I learned from her. Ned had a certain philosophy, her way of seeing the world a mixture between Lao Tse and Ruby Tuesday. There was no place she called home, at least not during the time I knew her. I used to rage when people described her as an outcast, but there is some truth to that. She was an outcast the way Dovima amongst the elefants was one, the most beautiful outcast of them all.
I don't know if she is alive or dead. I can only tell her tale.
I want to write about how I found her and how I lost her, and what I learned from her. Ned had a certain philosophy, her way of seeing the world a mixture between Lao Tse and Ruby Tuesday. There was no place she called home, at least not during the time I knew her. I used to rage when people described her as an outcast, but there is some truth to that. She was an outcast the way Dovima amongst the elefants was one, the most beautiful outcast of them all.
I don't know if she is alive or dead. I can only tell her tale.
