The Magician
The Magician
oct 1992
At our first date, we went to the wrong cinema. Each of us was waiting on his side. I was at the Rex, she was two steps away. Each went their own way, a little sad and disappointed. That same evening, she called me. "Idiot, where were you?" The next time, we took the train, like sailors who want to find each other at sea, like people coming from afar. I took her to a restaurant. She was very nervous. I looked into her childlike eyes. She couldn't eat. She followed me, without resistance, all the way to my bedroom. That gray October day turned into summer. She lay on the fur. I took her in my arms. We left the four walls. We went, went there. Gone to the land beyond, where one has silk on the hands and velvet on the face, where one no longer thinks about tomorrow. I hadn't been dreaming lately. There are wounds that hurt. She came in like spring. I heard the violins of the ball. She put her hands on me. She smiled, the magician. She gave me, gave me joy for a moment, silenced my sorrow. I now have only half a heart. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for a moment of happiness. Thank you until next time. Living is a tragic moor, whose paths lead nowhere, but where the magical lantern of love does us good, like shadows on a wall. Each one moves in their own way. And then one day, in a whisper, we leave quietly.
| Nothing is taken with us | Neither our body nor our house | We can only take our joy | Our loves and our songs |
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