492. He was at the park every day at lunch, sitting on his motorbike and writing in a small black notebook. For weeks, she watched him scribble, forever curious about what he could possibly be writing. One day, five months later, he wasn't there but the notebook sat in her usual spot. What she discovered was a loving portrait of herself, in over fifty pages of slanted scrawl. "She's a pretty girl until you hear her story; then she's beautiful." #492.