About Anne

She walks around, seeming weightless. Her pale face makes her brown eyes look bigger, and the dark hair falls by her back. She put her own arms around herself – Where is that lovely mouth that used to kiss her in such a sweet way?
The old oak, whose leaf seemed earlier so vivid and stunning, have now turned to yellow, a sad one actually, which brings nothing but sorrow. The playground is dark. The children abandoned this place, as they were never been there, ever. She looks at the floor. An old magazine lies ripped off, spread all over it.
Something inside her yells that nothing’s the way it should be – ignored voice, falling through the void.
The old people look at her with profound contempt, and I wonder what happened to those smiles they all used to do while staring, only a couple of months earlier.
The tears she cries now so often makes the eyeliner in her melancholic eyes to fall down the face, but she doesn’t worry anymore. No point in trying. Why should she, if the pain inside her soul is so incredibly vast and breaks her into pieces? So small ones she thinks she will disappear someday. She hopes she will.

Suddenly there is a change of light. A shy child slowly crawls through the slide, and smiles. His front teeth are missing. Yet, he keeps on smiling. She can’t help it. She is lost in that smile, in that little detail that overwhelmed her.
She doesn’t look at the north entrance, and so she doesn’t see him passing by. She senses his strong, secret perfume – but she already learned how to ignore it. When he places his arms around her waist, her chest stops moving.
The world freezes. A butterfly stands still in the air, it’s colours throwing soft reflexes above the young couple, and they look like the prime actors in a sad play - so unfairly sad.
Salt water suddenly slides by his square chin, silently breaking the immobility of time. His lips whisper something that floats in the air like a melody. One of the old men walks away as fast as he can from the strangely beautiful scenario.

Time has no importance. The blue and red lights that quickly surround the green garden took it’s meaning away. They are too late. Such small words to such a frustrate feeling, who will haunt my reverie forever.

This dazzling image standing in front of me, of a soul slowly rising above everything else, travelling through the blue skies of happiness, will haunt me as long as I live. A soul absorbed by joy, by too longed repressed desires.
Later I knew. Her name? Anne. Never woke up. He still wonders… «Did she listen “I’m sorry” while laid down on my lap?» No one saw him again.