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°°°Soundtrack : Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - Summertime°°°

Fall hasn't started officialy yet, but winter has almost show up here.

Alone I stroll around down the pathways, findng my way through the trees. Taking the C-Train, trying to figure out what this year will be.

I was told to come by 2pm, but no one expected me, and no one was here. I only met some French, a TA, a Ph. D who should probably know by heart verses of Du Bellay's sonnet. Facing the coldness and the windy weather, earplugs on, waiting on life to goes on. The sky suddenly covers up with dark clouds, the sun had already vanished away.

Are you OK? They asked me. Did they hurt you? They asked me. Don't stay here, he said. It's hard to face that no one is following you, that no one actually cares for you. It just hurts.

In the bookstore, I found out a Paris guidebook, and cried at it, as Charles Trenet sings in my ears. Instead, I read Leopardi's poetry, as a way to remember who I was, and who I am. It just hurts.

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Par | Avant | 09/09/2007 06:49 | Après | Dernières mises à jour | aucun commentaire | Version imprimable