Brief encounter 2

She stood next to me. Her beauty was felt throughout my entire body, like blood that began to flow faster and faster every time I looked at her. I wished I would merge with her, wished that by closing my eyes I could escape from my shell and feel what she felt. All I felt was the train I was waiting for. I hate waiting, always waiting. I got on, she sat down in front of me. It was the only place left. 

Other than that, I felt a noise in my head, a feeling of not being there, filled with little powder boxes stuffed with unpleasant emotions. I opened my eyes again. She was sitting as still as before, staring out the window. She didn’t seem to be from here.

She made small, quick movements: her eyes blinking, her smile hidden behind a stern gaze, her blonde hair kept falling in front of her eyes, which she tried to wave back. Meanwhile, she tried to maintain her posture, straight and static, until she sank into herself again. There she sat, elegantly dressed, surrounded by golden mirrors that sang softly to her, but she didn’t hear. She didn’t belong here. Just like me.

I wanted to tell her about life, about the pure existence of life, about a consciousness that reaches deeper than the reflections of the water, about that game of feelings, feelings transformed into vibrations, into endless frictions between two connected souls. 

I leaned toward her, with the nonverbal behavior of: I would like to ask you something. Her eyes looked right through me. I backed away, took a book, and did hide behind the black and white printed words. Stories of others, without daring to make them come true myself.