jueves, 28 de octubre de 2004
This morning on the tube I found my face at just 20cm away from the face of a girl with the softest skin. It was the texture of a Godess, it was a skin that invited to bite the meat it covered so elegantly. It was a sculpture by Rodin suddenly claiming to be alive, ignorant of the world around it, and yet capturing it all. I wish I could only write better to describe how full of life I was when I felt the impulse of leaning towards her and touch the magical smell of the music of her face. But it was all in vain, as it is now, fourteen hours after.