Exercises in Admiration by Cioran

I only met her twice, which is little, but the exceptional is not measured by the standards of time. Her absent, mysterious figure immediately attracted me, her whispers as she didn't speak but murmured, her restless movements, her unfocused look on people or things, the captivating charm of her aura. "Who are you? And where did you come from?" This was the question we wanted to ask her upon seeing her. She couldn’t answer, being too immersed in her secret or unable to betray it.

No one knew how she breathed, or by what means she was subjected to the dominion of breath, or what she was searching for among us. It was certain she was not from here, and her participation in our fall into time was out of courtesy or curiosity.