Mes mains en suspension au dessus de mon clavier gris argent aux touches noires. Il est vieux et un peu poussiéreux, pourtant le tracé des lettres blanches est toujours visible.
Simulacre de pianiste, je fais frôler mes doigts sur les touches, à la recherche des lettres qui conviendront, puis des phrases, des paragraphes qui pourront ensuite se suivre pendant de longues minutes, s'inscrivant sur la page blanche sur mon écran, au rythme de la mélodie de mon clavier. Le bruit que fait une lettre n'est pas le même que celui de la barre espace, retour ou entrée.
Simulacre de pianiste, je fais frôler mes doigts sur les touches, à la recherche des lettres qui conviendront, puis des phrases, des paragraphes qui pourront ensuite se suivre pendant de longues minutes, s'inscrivant sur la page blanche sur mon écran, au rythme de la mélodie de mon clavier. Le bruit que fait une lettre n'est pas le même que celui de la barre espace, retour ou entrée.
And always, at some point, the silence between two light strumming, until my right hand reaches the point key on the numeric keypad, which closes a melody, before another resume.
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It advances neither tall, nor the lowering. Straight ahead, only the destination account. Although at times his eyes are fixed on the sky, clinging to a fleecy cloud, lost in the greyness of a cluster scout a storm. And even if sometimes they get lost on the ground, attach themselves to the strides it does, the ground on which it works.
bag ends up on the grass, leaning on one leg ending in a waste basket. Hands are lost in a bag, finds a small pocket, opening the zipper and eradicating headphones, mp3. A few seconds later, the bag found its place on the back of his owner's leg starts again, just like his clone reversed.
A patchwork of different music pours into the white son, forming an instant sound barrier.
the corner of his eye, she spotted a group of people that are familiar but yet not be close. Unable prevent their ever crosses his path, she walks towards them, greeting them with a smile on his lips. Is not known for his good humor and humor in all circumstances? This is the role she has chosen, yet they do not know how she once played to perfection, how humor has dulled, darkened, how his laugh is not as spontaneous and sincere. And they did not know, luckily hardly anyone will testify to this change. Smile me, comrades! Smile, but do not laugh too hard and keep our secret tears. The excess or overflow of joy or tears, are frowned upon and draw attention.
A look at the sky. Gray, promising rain. Hope.
She arrived 5 minutes ahead of time, the auditorium was already full, as the first day. Before long, the seats will be easier to find. Some idle after the eyes, others he made hand signs. She locates a place in the third row, near the corridors and adjacent to two students sympathetic, certainly the only promotion to really invest in the course. A glance at the clock, which does nothing except ":" red, figures have disappeared. Fortunately, his watch on his wrist, it will be skinny consolation of seeing the scroll time, albeit slow when he passes it in these places.
history. During the first semester, the topic will focus on Madagascar, the island neighbor. She appreciates the true value of this original choice, she feared that yet another cover of the First or Second World War. The professor seems appropriate, as did his predecessor. But time passes more slowly with him.
Pause. A light rain enhances the fresh air. Reunion with one or the other fellow. So the holidays? Laughter, smiles, back in the boardroom.
4:25 p.m., at the end of the course, output and discovery of a torrential rain that makes the hair on the heads of freshly brushingnées girls, scantily dressed, or heels. , She smiled. She loves it, the rain, she had desired all day. Answered prayer, she left the court building, and ventures in the splendid fleet. A few minutes later, she was soaked like a log and came to an alleged bus shelter stuffed to the brim. Whatever, she sits outside and focuses on this multitude of drops that fall on him, giving him a sense of refreshment soon replaced by a wave of cold, nevertheless bienvenue.
Enfin, le bus arrive et tous s'y engouffrent, dégoulinants ou presque, les plus prévoyants ayant un parapluie. Une fois n'est pas coutume, elle ferme la vitre à sa droite, se réfugie à nouveau dans sa bulle sonore et attend, tandis que le bus s'ébranle et démarre enfin. A la première gare, de nouveaux passagers mouillés montent avec empressement, tandis que d'autres en descendent.
C'est alors qu'elle le repère, parmi les nouveaux venus. Cela faisait tellement longtemps, et en même temps, on aurait dit que c'était hier. Reconnaissance mutuelle. Il vient s'asseoir à ses côtés. Elle enlève ses écouteurs.
It has not changed much since college. But his voice is less rugged than before, sweeter. She knows he has been through hard times, she is reassured to learn that he escaped. He tells a few snippets of his life, his plans, his desires. She notes that it is in sportswear, he learns he still football, it is passed to the next level.
He clung to his dream despite everything he had to endure, she meets this admirable stamina. They talk about everything and nothing. She arrived at her stop, they greet each other and she leaves.
To the umpteenth time, returning the headphones to his ears, and she walks briskly while the heat dries her wet clothes, it goes beyond his old college, sucks in passing the smell of incense shop, jewelry and Indian movies, watch without seeing the windows at clothing stores, shoes that were repeated until it finally arrives at its destination.
From beginning to end, except the joy of being in the rain, she will not feel anything.
past, meets an old friend would have boosted his heart with joy, she would have told a thousand stupid things with affection and heat, happy.
past, she would have bitched that time passes too slowly, would have found dozens of things to say, to question.
Here, nothing. A vacuum-based, a nothing sentimental, a break for a healthy heart too used to things too small, ephemeral.
In truth this is, there is no battery, the heart is unloaded. It would be enough to reconnect the turbine as it previously, but no. Things are as they are.
The little energy that remains, I will pass it on paper, in graphite, telling my life or any history, and responding to this new old friend with whom I exchange many letters to more than beneficial consequences.
Did you know? The distance is irrelevant in the end. Know that the other side of the world, there is someone who feels more or less the same despite who is also bored you and that takes time to tell his own adventures, until you do the same, is an undeniable pleasure. It does not even know my name, and I know hers. However, everyone on our side we outline each of our portrait by our mutual written. Because reading someone that you appreciate, it's discovered a way other than visual, the verbal exchange.
is 24:42. As expected, the morning passes quickly, I must be ready for the course of 14.00, and hope not to miss the bus 18:10. So far I have been fortunate to never end as late, even if in summer the sun sets later, too, it makes me kind of weird. Oh, that reminds me of the day Bac English, the time has gone by so fast, it got dark quickly. It is an undeniable positive reviews, at least if you're part of those who write quickly.
1:01 p.m.. I'll turn off my PC, go to college and stay in this mode that I experienced yesterday, it feels good not to take the lead.
End of Article useless. If there are people who pass, come back in four months instead of stuff to read potentially more fun.
Good Day.
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