viernes, 28 de septiembre de 2012

He recounted the story with the softness that characterizes him. He carefully knitted his words together. “The Sun was chasing me on my way over Les Alpes Maritimes. There will always be magic between the mountains, the Sun and I, therefore, the happiness that I felt that day was not a new one. Little houses aligned a joyful row that illuminated the landscape, but they seemed distant until I came close enough to appreciate their beauty. Then, they looked like music boxes about to unravel. There were hundreds of cars parked on both sides of the road. I walked in a direction driven by instinct and when I made a turn towards an alley, there they were. The whole town was reunited at a food and bric-a-brac fair. The Church shone with its doors open, the colors of the tents of the merchants danced before my eyes, the laughter of men and women spoke of fascinating tales, and the rosy-cheeked toddlers did not stop running around my heart. Everything spoke of a magnificent Sunday morning. I kept rolling slowly until I parked the car in the space that was waiting for me. I opened the window and there you were... The smell of rosemary, lavender, and fresh fruits, invaded my senses, bringing to my memory the unmistakable scent of your hair. I wanted to embrace you at that moment. I walked slowly between buyers and found a bagatelle to place it in your hands upon my return... " (Dagor)

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