I have climbed the steps to the Sacré-Coeur and I'm waiting for you. There are hundreds of tourists around, Japenese with their cameras, groups of Italians talking and laughing, couples of lovers. I wonder if you would be here, in a few minutes. I'm waiting for you, hearing my heart beating. I've missed you so much.Suddenly, I see you, your big smile and your malicious glance. You wear a pair of jeans and a nice shirt, a pale pink shirt. You look good, sporty and happy. I run to you, hold you, smell you. You say: "let me look at you, darling", but I can't move, only think of staying there, held tight in your arms, touching your pale pink shirt, with my eyes closed and the sound of my heart beating. You touch me, kiss me, sweetheart, is it you here ? Look at me, baby. It has been such a long time.
It's not the fantasy that becomes reality, it's reality that becomes the fantasy.
In a few hours' time, once we have kissed and kissed and made love, you'll read something to me. One of your chapters or a short piece of a book that you like. I'll try to translate a little bit of what I'm reading, I find it a bit painful not to be able to share my readings with you. Maybe, we'll watch TV afterwards, or have dinner somewhere.
This is happiness.
