Killing Time

En marchant dans la rue, j'ai eu une conversation fictive avec mon ancien professeur de religion. Je lui ai donné l'adresse de mon blog à cette occasion. Elle me demandait si j'écrivais toujours autant.

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J'ai vu Cordelia. Je me dis parfois que j'aurais bien aimé que mes lèvres disparaissent.

...

Je continue en anglais.

I saw the girl with the beautiful hair.

I saw the barmaid. Technically speaking, she's not really a barmaid, but still, I use the word because I like it - barmaid. It makes me think of the song by Gillian Welch, barmaid girls something. Anyway. The girl kind of took me off guard because she told me my hair color had changed, and that it looked nice, now. I mean. She isn't supposed to know me. Still, I did notice her because I thought she looked very sweet, and she must have noticed me as well. I wonder if she thought that I looked weird in my early University years, with my hair that hid my face, my hair that was far too long (still, I liked it) and I wonder, as well, if she thought I was too skinny, though I don't think I was skinny, but some people told me so. Anyway. She's just a nice person.

I saw Mrs Blake. She's still so minuscule. I was just talking to Quentin. He didn't seem so excited about meeting with our friends, because he said he was busy. He mentioned the fact that I was missing an earring ( did you do it on purpose ? he said). I laughed. Yes, I said. You're the second person to say so. I saw the big smile on Mrs Blake's face. I should have told her something like "Hi. How are you ?" because I think she's a friendly teacher, and I don't mind a little chat. Still, I didn't say a thing, except "Yes", when Quentin said the thing about my earring. I should have said something funny like "yes I know. It's just my cat." but then, well, he would have said I watched Desperate Housewives too much, which isn't even true.