Twenty minutes waiting for a coffee in a hot summer day… I remembered the first night I arrived in this town, almost five years ago. It was middle of November, a very cold night. I got off the train and started walking towards my friend’s house, following the directions written on a box of matches. “Take the road to the left and keep going straight until the end of the street”. As I was half way to the outskirts of the town the street separated into two alleys. I decided to go left. Soon though, I could only see the lights of few houses scattered in the dark. I was not sure whether I should keep walking or turn back. I was tired and lost. There, a person appeared behind me. “Where are you going?” All I could say was “Here!” I handed the box of matches with no doubts and no other words. We reached the steps of my friend’s house. “Have a good stay!” I got a glimpse of two beautiful eyes when my friend turned on the front door light. “The most beautiful person on earth!” I thought. As I was getting ready to leave, a waiter approached. “This is from the person who was standing in front of you in line”, he said as he handed me a box of matches with my friend’s address written on it. I got a glimpse of two beautiful eyes staring at me from across the street… 100_1787


The piano kissed by a delicate hand

Gleams distantly in rose-grey evening

While with a wingtips’ weightless sound

A fine old tune, so fragile, charming

Roams discreetly, almost trembling,

Through the chamber She’s long perfumed.

What is this sudden cradle song

That gradually lulls my poor being?

What do you want of me, playful one?

What do you wish, slight vague refrain

Drifting now, dying, towards the window

Opening a little on a patch of garden?

The Piano Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)

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