Wednesday, June 01 2016 By: Roos van Rij
To the one who inspired it, but will never read it…
A walking wig in the streets of Paris. A born actress, driven by madness. A mystery, a well kept secret.
She was there watching me with eyes that flickered like fire in a dimly lit room. She caught me looking at her, but she pretended she didn’t see, because that’s what she loves the most… pretending… and teasing. As my eyes were searching hers, I saw a small smile hidden on her perfect lips. She was beautiful with her white hair and bright skin. She could have been an angel if not for the sinister smile that she wore.
A sharp look, a façade for the fragile soul that hides behind a book. The hero of her own story, travelling her imagination, trying her luck, her glory. Wishing she could stay. A runaway… leaving broken pieces behind everywhere she goes. No coming back. Never too late to be who she wants to be. Her life, her act. That’s why she’s gone. That’s where she’s at. Faking it until breaking it.
All she left was a note: “I’m sorry but I cannot stay”. I never heard from her again…
And I was blind. I didn’t realize her disguise. It was so fake I started to believe.
If I would see her again I would tell her one thing: We can’t run from ourselves because everywhere we go we’re there.
And she… She wouldn’’t really mind, it's only love she hoped to find. She gets her lovin’ on the run.
She’s bittersweet. She was a bad idea… My best bad idea.
- him Read on