TGV Paris Lyon
A love letter handwritten on a page torn from a diary, April 16: you're pretty .
And this pervasive.
I look outside, but the sun bothers me. He gets up and gently pulls the curtain. I feel his eyes on me. I have nothing more to look outside. I mumble a thank you, smiling.
Agenda September 30: you're even prettier when you smile
message drags on my shelf.
I pretend to read a book, but that's three times I read the same passage, without understanding a single word. I turn the page, it is true.
thousand ideas in my head, who is he, or will he? that goes down first?
Control Notes. I put my book on the message.
Foolishly trying to read upside down it's going, suddenly, my eyes focus, he understood.
stop at the station. a young man blind trying to put down his bag. I get up and help to settle.
I take my book, but a new ticket is placed on it, November 14: all up is divine!
I feel ashamed and looks finally. He smiled.
ah ... his smile. I close my eyes that he can not imagine my confusion. But my heart is pounding. I open my eyes and looked at him, he closed his eyes. I watch it. Yet. I believe I can for her fake profifer sleep. His thick brown hair, tousled by falsely few wayward strands falling over his eyebrows. How old can it be? under his shirt one guesses broad shoulders and well defined. I seek an alliance with his fingers.
he opens his eyes, I will hide mine, and closes.
I still think ... eyes closed. But I can not run my conscience. my body is in turmoil. I guess my hands down her courrir shoulders, back and along his neck. I allow myself those thoughts, but they do return, I open my eyes to the hunt.
New post on my book, February 28: I get off at the next stop. do you dare madness?
strangely disappointed and I am distraught. When is the next station? in one hour, five minutes? I look at him, he smiled again, as if it were certain to win. Win? is it a game? why he smiles so? His smile bothers me and makes me lose all reason. Close your eyes to escape. He appeared behind my eyelids closed, even more now. I imagine myself in his arms, looking at me, without rien faire d'autre. Je ne peux imaginer autre chose, je me l'interdis, mais les images s'entrechoquent et se battent contre ma conscience. Par bribes, nos corps se mélangent puis s'éloignent. C'est un supplice, je rouvre les yeux, on entre en gare...
Je le regarde, il me regarde. Il ne sourit plus. son regard bleu est intense, profond. une invitation, une supplication.
Le train ralentit.
Il bouge un peu.
Le train s'arrête.
Il se lève.
je saisis 28 février, le retourne et écris : "NON". En majuscule.
Il lit me regarde, sourit.
Je détourne mon regard, il est toujours debout, devant moi.
Le jeune homme malvoyant tousse, comme s'il sentait cette voltage, these vibrations.
The man turns around, takes her bag, walks in the hallway. So
want to pounce.
The young man gets up and visually impaired wonder if I can accompany him to the bar.
I do not answer, I lost my sight unknown. I get up, but the blind girl in front of me and prevent me from passing. I want to push, running, I feel that this escape was barely born.
The blind girl thanks me to accompany him.
I took her hand, and the conduit through cars, resigned.
IT speaks to me, I do not know her answer, I do not know.
I missed my train. I missed a chance. I said "no" when all I was screaming "yes." I hate this contradiction
women.
I lost against fate again.
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