Stranger

If you like, listen to this song while you read my blog. Music can be very picturesque.

On the train to London, today.

This man sitting next to me.

Tall. Maybe my age around 30.

Big blue eyes. Dark mid long hair. British skinny look.

He reminds me of Carl Barat or Adrien Brody – both.

His eyes nervous. Sweat on his face. Young clear voice.

There was something about him…

Fear in his eyes.

He sat there like a shadow of himself. I looked at him. Visions.

He left his seat every 20 minutes. Nervous. Must be on drugs.

I thought.

There was something about him that fascinates me.

He was desperate about something. About what?

I grabbed my Moleskin notebook and started writing these lines.

He came back and saw me writing. He stopped.

He glanced at me. He caught me.

He was wearing a black leather jacket and a big leather bag.

He just bought a ticket. A ticket to London. Train to London.

Where else would he go?

He tried to sleep. I tried to keep my eyes busy with looking at the landscape but I saw him moving, nervous in his seat, reflecting in my window.

I turned around and took a picture secretly to capture this moment.

I wish I could say hi but I can’t. I wish I could help him. I wish I could sit next to him.

Asking him. Where would he go and why. What’s his name.

I felt connected to him although I never saw him before and I will never see him again.

He will leave the train with his big blue scary eyes. He will vanish in the crowds.

He looks like he needs help. So pretty but lost.

I want to go over and lean on to him. I want to tell him that I understand.

I wanted to hold his hand, I wanted everything in this moment. The train stopped.

Three hours passed. It felt like 10 minutes. Never ending 10 minutes, repeating.

I got up from my seat to catch a last glimpse.

He packed his bags then he looked up and caught my eyes.

I just stood there and starred. He looked at me with a view as he would know what I was thinking the last three hours.

He didn’t smile but he looked like he tried. I smiled at him. He just looked up from down there. It was intense.

I left the train first. I looked back but didn’t see him. I felt lost.

I ran to get my suitcase. I felt tired but London welcomes me warm, sweet and tender.

I was still thinking of this encounter with him. Mysterious stranger.

Just before I went down to the Underground I saw him.

He stood at the phone cell and looked desperate and distraught. He hung up the phone very upset about something. But why?

And why didn’t he had a phone? I felt sorry again. There must be something wrong.

Maybe I should go over and offer him my phone. Or a coffee. Maybe he would like it!

I didn’t. I didn’t cross the line and I passed him. He saw me leaving. I didn’t turn around.

Slow motion, capturing my life.

I awake and it was only a dream. So many dreams – I don’t know what is reality.

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About Mistress

Don't stop dreaming - Don't stop Rock'n Roll - Don't stop being beautiful.
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