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Fire in the Sky

27 novembre 2010

The sky is on fire. Its flames extend beyond clouds and buildings and hits your face which you've instinctly turned towards the window. All this gold on your dark skin and curls, it is beautiful. 

Your eyes closed, your wobbly head resting on the train's door, a quiet smile on your face tilted towards the dying sun, I sit next to you on a folding seat and I envy your peace. 

We cross path often, you and I, we take the same train from Paris to the Eastern suburbs. It is usually late in the day… as the winter crawls upon us, we feel heavier and spent by the time we commute back to our respective towns. We don't always chit-chat, there are days, like today, when we let each other rest in her thoughts and from her day. 

I know that you're a dentist, that you have two twin boys, I know that your days are long, from the time you get up to get them ready for school to the moment when you can rest your feet, you only have so few but precious hours of sleep. I've never heard of any man in your life, I've never asked but from your sad smile I guessed there were some disappointment and tears. 

You always look prim and proper and neat. You have to, you explained once, your clients are already stressed enough as they are. "If I dress as I usually do during the weekend, they'd never let me touch their teeth!". And then you laughted with warmth and amusement and it was as if a new flower had bloomed on the train. 

"This light burning the sky outside, it is so heart wrenchingly superb" you utter suddenly. "You should take a picture". You've learned by now that my twitching hands constantly snap shots of the most useless and sometimes the most amazing things. You open an eye and let out a laugh, for, of course, I have already taken a good dozen pictures with my phone. You take yours out and shoot me. Snap!

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