You look around. So many people, so many masks. Some love you for who you are. Others love you even more for what you are not. You took a train to nowhere and repeatedly got off at the wrong station. You always thought the road was too long, you wanted to change the scenery, the neighbors of the compartment and the hours of sleep.
You met people who stole nights from you, but you didn't want them in the first rays of the sun. You also met people in the middle of the day, but with whom it was impossible to count the stars. You simply continued to travel without a direction.
-People like you will always live in search of happiness…
-My dear, you're wrong. People like me are in love with the idea of a story, by no means with the feeling itself. We no longer feel, we just simulate so well that those around us confuse the nightmare with a fairy tale.
I was looking at him lost in a compartment far too quiet for such a long journey. I couldn't help but notice how he sometimes looked at me secretly, I couldn't help but notice that when I looked up he bit his lower lip slightly. I was shaking my fingers and thinking about long-gone stories.
-You look lost.
-I find myself.
-Is it a fairy tale?
-It's always a fairy tale. In the present, the princess stays with the dragon.
-Are you wrong often?
-And I never forget. I've always received happiness in one package.
-In a sea of mistakes?
-At the end of the world.
-It doesn't make sense.
The first station was too far away, and the air was stifling.
You know very well that sitting next to a man is not always a proof of love. You know that temporary people always manage to teach an easy-to-remember head-to-head lesson. You also know that on testing, you rarely have a chance on a passing grade. In practice it is not always the same as in theory.
You took lessons from the masters and taught them as well. At the end of the year the road was the same. A gallery full of masks that you couldn't even count. A soul framed on the ceiling to which you could no longer distinguish either desires or dreams. Make mistakes in the condica and motivate absent. Time passed by you and you lived an illusion called life. An illusion that other women would have wanted, but which for you was a permanent arrears.
