Yesterday, with nothing to do sat to contemplate what I think is poetry made woman. There are so many "art galleries roaming" really driven on the streets and you see every day, ie, captures only a second, but there are very few times that you have the opportunity to take time and sit to admire, what work of art in an exhibition, a woman.
I sitting, smoking his last cigarette from the pack and her two feet from me, alone on a cold foggy day. For the post was perfect, as always the stick with the right song, and started to look and tell every detail it was possible then verbalize through these lines. Excuse me in advance for use as a muse without their consent, but in view and considering that for quite a while that I was not the time to make a good letter, the timing was perfect to update the issue and incidentally, pay tribute her being a woman.
The truth is that the notebook I took then to do as I studied it was only an excuse to stay there marveling at it, perhaps not to feel a fool sitting in the cold doing nothing.
was browsing, something serious, the notebook, as she did the same with a book. I was surprised, particularly their loneliness. So tiny it there so put aside. Probably wait for someone who never came, but could also find that loneliness. Soledad something inexplicable, because with its innate appeal was rather strange that a boy had at least next to it. Well, actually, yes there was. I was.
just smoked my cigarette and after a while she lit one. Was to move to a new cadre of exposure, but by the same artist: the profile that one could see it had changed diametrically. Now she smoked, and for a reason do understand, but I can not explain, it became even more attractive, even more women. His apparently innocent drifting student vanished on that one detail: the cigarette.
Then, seeing her smoking realized that my own pack was empty. I went for another and returned to the exposure. The excuse of the book I was doing something ridiculous and childish, so I opened the pack and lit another cigarette. It was the third day, and the second on 15 minutes but 10 minutes were worth less to live another 5 further immersed in this gallery .
Soon came a couple of mates, a little chat and it was time to leave. They left and I was finishing throwing smoke. Providentially Tell me I was given 5 minutes to watch this time, no excuses: the problem of closure of the bag was real, so I was taking care of it once as he dropped his furtive glances figure had returned to the innocent girl without the cigar.
accommodate a chair from his table and departed, without having dared to say "Hello, your name is (...), right? Choose to send greetings to your sister from Diego. "
