Out of your planet

Hey, i´m here, say my spirit for streets...
Just thinking after a long walk across the new city, how quikly can the good and safe vision of yourself on mirror became into a monster.
First you date with everybody out and check before get out your image on mirror trying to get the most comfortable possible and at the simple instant when you make the most simple comparision with another kind of people you are fried.
It´s just like i were a ghost, without body, without existence, just a pair of eyes floating above sidewalk, with no mision but read the stranger faces... what a tired task...what a natural instinct, the one for nothing but for catch the essence of a city, copying for oneself all the information, for our internal machine, just for get a result; is it culture? the result of the view that we pass through our own mould?
And another thing:
Will i convert my beauty, my trust, all my life,..? i would like to stay alert every moment of my change just to save the memory of myself now, like make the great collector of feelings who i am.

I´m different here; i look different at least.
Is the 21st century. Every minute i realize time passes slowly. Places and people often change slowly if there doesn´t happen such a big change on every world people live. So slowly or the necessary slow to conserve for masses the same factions face for hundreds of years, that in museums i found a common the-new-city-girl painted in oil or watercolor framed on a beauty bronze framework or the-new-city-boy dressed in uniform like a General of the 19th century.
Ah the races... i´ll make a pretty short description of mine... i don´t appear in any museum...i´m lost between races, but i must say i have facial and physical features in common with all people of my country. That´s a good sign i must have defined origins. I think it´s pretty interesting.