J loved outings, friends and drunk nights. The vaporous discussions around a cigarette, drowning in the eyes of a stranger. This new skin and sharp senses. I loved non-existent, foggy, painful and hot mornings. Weekends that last a night and memories that never left me the week. The city, at five o'clock in the morning, belonged to me. Its streets, its markets that open, and the cats that meow on garbage cans, as in American movies. The carefree outings, flirtations and then friends, it was my life.
Today, I'm thirty, I live with someone. Today I build my life, two. My weekends have two days. My mornings have three hours and my weeks have three Mondays. I'm getting married in six months, and I lost my life. My friends do not invite me anymore, the night has forgotten me and the vapors are gone. Happy to prepare my wedding, to imagine my winter evenings around the tree, it sometimes happens, by car, to cry gently. I imagine again that my hands glide around a glass, my eyes rest on a moment and my life becomes reverie.