The stranger's lips were thin and slender body. The girlfriend called me in the evening to give me go downstairs. The stranger I made her feel like when the doors opened. I went out too fast cheeks on fire and I'm back where I came without introducing myself. I'm lying on a bed that was not mine. I have long set the ceiling to try to understand, how many times could I resist the irresistible? I was alone in the middle of a river of possibilities for me to predict a satisfactory life tidy. But love is sometimes a tedious, concessions and inaction. That's when love becomes long. When it drops too heavy as a missed cut and it becomes a frightening neutrality. Love censorship as a series of looks on the other, it gives itself intentions and interpretations. The artist is often hara-kiri to buy a lull.
Yet when I find the sparks of his eyes and strong hands to keep me in all circumstances, I know there is here now and the place to leave me. Between whispers of people talking softly to the misunderstanding of the relationship, I seized the opportunity to live other than the love story of adventure which I am the heroine. I go out of my desire to turn the pages and jump to the last chapter and then retrace my steps. I try not to forget my beginnings in periods of exhaustion and remember all the details that make me a slut with luck, the damn lucky. I am a happy woman.
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