Saturday, 19 April 2014

Terraces.

Recently I read the story of a beautiful woman sitting at the terrace,  awaiting for a visit that never arrived. Receiving texts.

Call me skeptical, but there is no substitute for the human voice. A text can be sent by anyone, by mistake or malice, by a colleague feeling a bit naughty... Anyone.

My heart goes to the lady on the terrace (maybe because I, too, await?)

I'll keep waiting. To the lady on the cafe, I wish her the best. If she had a glimpse of where to go and find out, maybe she would, and just do that.

I wished I knew any cafes to go to, and find out. I'll stick with waiting at my local railway station, no matter what.

Saturdays, from 19:00 to 20:30.

If you cannot come this week, come next.
Or the next.
Or the next.

And so on.

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