“But you know he is French”, he told me.
It was a reversed warning, because it was something I already knew.
Also because I had already ended it with my French lover.
The French are not that reliable when it comes to love.
Sadly, I tell from experience.
Although they are an exhibition of ‘L’amour toujours’, or something they would like to promote.
I believe the French are a pronunciation about the tenderness of the heart.
The French arrogance is perhaps something mistaken, to protect and serve what can only be understand by someone that listens.
To the whisper of the soul and perhaps who understands love truly.
Who could that be?
It was this French guy I was dating.
There was something about him.
About him and me.
It was the look on people’s faces, when we were walking hand in hand in the streets of Lisbo.
The judgement of others, can be scary, however it could also be something positive.
“People are looking at us”, he said.
“Yes”, I answered.
“Because we make sense”.
This silent approval of the outside world, was the confirmation given by the world we are living in.
Although the love between us died, maybe it never even existed.
I can still not understand exactly what happened.
It was really a mystery what he did.
But that I felt something deep with him, is clear to me.
Many reasons I can give, why it isn’t anymore.
But when it comes to love.
I believe there should be room to be and to become.
At least this is the memory I have when I think of him.