A Woman - The City That Never Sleeps

Her eyes listlessly drift across the sea of people, the various shapes and sizes melding together to look like one, big blob of life.
Her once vibrant hair now lays wispy and white. The cane used to hold up her feeble body leans as she does, propped up against the solitary bench. Oh, but her face! It's a masterpiece, a canvas that exhibits the beautiful inscriptions of the battles of her life. The strokes of the paintbrush have been many and ceaselessly scrawl countless lines into her flesh.
She's walked all over kingdom come, but for now, she sits.
Greyed, weathered, worn.

I wonder what those eyes have seen.