walking down that road alone.
not on the sidewalk, or along the right side of the road as we usually do: I was in the middle.
Step by step on the continuous white line, insurmountable. Rocked on as an invisible thread, gently balanced.
With arms wide, going neither too fast nor too slowly, in stages, neither too long nor too short.
appeared before me like a shadow, on other occasions he had come on that road.
I wanted to scream, I felt this was much feeling, and he knew it. He knew what was burning in the chest, he knew what tore my stomach with knives.
Mr. S. I looked as usual. He stretched out his hand toward mine. Strait was a note in his fist. I waited for him to open it to dissolve in the wind. As the smoke disappeared and fled with him want to scream.
"Words are the source of misunderstandings" (The Little Prince)
Mr. S. he took my words. He had stolen. Would no longer come back to me.
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