Albert


When one meets someone and feels an instant attraction, it is impossible not to fall in love. When finding out that this person has the name of a famous author or philosopher this is even more so the case. Imagine meeting a Bukowski or a Fitzgerald, an Orwell or a Salinger, even an Austin or a Bronte. When one also has a fascination with the French, their language, their culture, their behaviour… and this person has a French Author’s name and is as beautiful as the sun rising over a fresh summer field on a calm Saturday morning… then the love and desire felt for this person is feverish and life is a constant flux of emotional turmoil. With one word this person can raise one to the highest of elations whilst, in the same breath, with one withheld word and untimely silence, pitch one headlong into the blackest night of pain and sorrow. On the tips of the fingers does this person control one’s state of mind and from it there is no escape.
Tonight, however, I listen to music, think of her, drink tea, pack my bags, read pieces of Antigone and contemplate the agonies and the joys of this life. Tomorrow I fly to France and, because it is without her, even visiting her country feels somewhat empty. It’s incredible to think that less than five months ago I was unaware of her existence.  

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