You open your eyes and look around you.

"Avengers, assemble!"

You hear him declare in that comically theatrical manner you relish. He never fails to draw a wave of laughter. You particularly notice the contortion of Simon's face as amusement nearly steals his breath. His sense of humour is lethal, particularly to himself.

He was beautiful.

Fatima's face carries its usual indifference. You wonder what keeps her mind so occupied, even as she seems so distant, as though her very soul were enslaved to a moment removed from the present. Her statuesque face, devoid of expression, is bright.

She was beautiful.

Francis, surprisingly, has his shirt buttoned all the way up today. That's a first. But the two orange specks tell you that some things never change. His uniform might always be dotted with stains, but the longer and closer you observe him, the more you realise just how beautiful he is.

He was beautiful.

Look at Samuel go, ever the craftsman. The origami bird is coming into form. Its wings appear sharp. Samuel is focused with the concentration of a Renaissance sculptor, his large, hammer-like forehead jutting outward, glistening with sweat. His tongue peeps from the side of his mouth.

He was beautiful.

Hamida seems to be painting her nails with a marker. You've heard people remark on how unattractive she is. She's too fat, they say. Look at her, like Popoff.

But you've seen the way she smiles when you compliment her nail polish. You've observed the tenderness in her hands as she paints over your nails. You've seen that cheeky glance she gives, her eyes rolling sideways in their sockets whenever she makes a joke. You've seen her light up when you first showed her that issue of a fashion magazine. The way she adored the dresses and admired the models. And when she first showed you her sketches,

She was beautiful.

Chisom is dancing. That girl does what she wants without a care in the world. They said her shaved head made her look manly. You watch her bob her head, her skirt bouncing with every hop. She is smiling. She always smiles whenever she dances.

They said she was shameless, but you remember watching her enter class the day she had cut her hair. How she averted her gaze, keeping it fixed on the ground. The discomfort in her laughter whenever they remarked on how shiny her head had become.

But you also watched her grow. You watched her confidence return. You watched her outgrow the shame they had attached to her alopecia. You watched the glow return to her eyes and the boldness to her steps, until the background noise became just that: noise.

Now she smiles to the rhythm.

She was beautiful.

Umar, our little genius. What is he reading? A novel.

You know they say Umar is stuck-up, arrogant. You saw when Bilal hit him. His mouth bled. You saw when Abdurrahman and Abdulbaqi sat with him. He was happy to have company. But you knew they were only there because it was the day of tests. Umar probably knew that, too. But he probably didn't care.

He had company.

He's a strange one, that Umar. You've watched him since primary school. He was the funniest person in class, effortlessly humorous. But you also saw the tension behind the jokes, the smart kid who wanted to seem, who wanted to be cool.

You saw him go behind a rock to cry when the other boys excluded him from the football team. They said kids like him didn't play ball. They only read books.

You watched it happen again and again, until he became accustomed to disappointment. You watched him speak to himself. They called him mad. They called him mental, said the books had driven him crazy.

But you eavesdropped on his conversations. You listened when he spoke to insects. He was kind to them. They made him smile.

They said he was a creep.

You've seen his eyes grow moist behind his glasses whenever he gets an answer wrong. You've seen how he smiles when a teacher sings his praises. You've seen him scratch his head, trying desperately to answer questions the teacher never even asked him to solve.

He was beautiful.

You've seen them, all of them. And the longer you watch them, the more beautiful they seem.

You know them: their likes, their dislikes, what makes them smile. The way they laugh, their unique gestures, their smiles, their speech, their patterns of speech, their smiles.

Did you mention how much you love people's smiles?

They say beauty rests in the eyes of the beholder. But quite often the beholder is inattentive.

So look at the people around you and behold.