11 décembre 2007

Such an aïdiot.

I've been thinking of you quite a lot lately, listening to songs that remind me of you and your blind-tests on my mp3 player. I was listening to Tracy Chapman's "Telling Stories" and it made me want to write to you, to see you again, really. We never listened to it together, never mind. I remember we were trying to communicate, and you were so fabulous with your imagination and your laughter and your big mediterranean gestures, I remember like it was yesterday. And you were so tall and large you frightened me when you were angry, and then again you'd burst with laughter. I sometimes regret to have said no, you were just so fantastic I didn't realize at the moment. Like everything, one always realizes too late, and you were already mile and miles away across the blue sea - written English always looks so corny and boring - I'd slap myself for being so slow. Anyway, I just wanted to write a little to you, and not knowing where to start or anything, I'll just end it up there. I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgot you, and probably never will until I'm old, strolling around with my tripod. You're an amazing person/boy/man. Have a nice trip around the world, and as you pass St Etienne, come and kiss me on the cheek.


To D.


Posté par jbg006 à 20:46 - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]


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