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without facing people. I began
running, ever so slowly at first,
thinking about my breathing, in my
deep mood again. The sun reached at
my feet through the huge window
giving upon the entrance below. From
up here, one could see everyone going
in and out, except that there was
another entry at the opposite side of the
building. Strange how in America
there is always a way to go in and a
way to go out. In other countries, there
is only one front door so when you get
in, you maybe feel trapped. I never
knew which one was the one I had to
knock on when visiting, especially
when people's houses had four or five
doors on the outside. Like people,
houses had several faces: the true face
you rarely saw, and the false one. I
have never thought the false face of
Americans was hypocrisy as I often heard them say. This because they made it look
like politeness, a way to avoid any sort of conflict, a way to keep it cool and cozy
between people. I had to learn this from them, or did I... then, at what price?
I closed my eyes, feeling the burning rays of the sun reaching on my lids moving up
and down by intermittence, following each stride. Each time I did that, I could not
help a sensation of floating and I could almost sense the oxygen, the nice green odor of
trees, coming into me, fitting me. Those two trees that looked like different species
now looked like any other tree seen from the top. How birds must be happy, I thought,
from up there the world looked spread out, not tight, closed over itself. From over
there, the crown of leaves opened up like blossoms showing another shade of green to
the sun, a much deeper tone of green. That was beautiful!
Photo courtesy of: www.freeimages.co.uk1
10
I suddenly wondered: did details like
these occurred to the architects when
they designed a building? I, would
design a gym with alleys of trees
instead of brick walls, something like a
green house. The roof would be a
gigantic arc with many stucco works so
that birds would build their nest there
and fill the building with twitterings.
The sun's rays over my skin became intense as I continued running; my hands
paused on the bar to make sure I did not fall over while daydreaming. A man was
looking at me from a distance. I just did not care. I knew he would be tired of staring
in a minute or two. How free this feeling was. I was not the burning romantic I used
to be. I giggled. I was stared at all the time because I looked different, and surely I
was different. People staring or glaring at me seemed fascinated or seemed to react to
a negative image they thought I represented. Nobody was really interested in figuring
me out. They liked Sophie because they thought they could relate to her; they thought
they could understand her. I was like the birds people watch from a distance and never
think about making contact with. Sometimes I stared back, but this time these tree
branches were so gorgeous, I did not care. I smiled at the pigeons that had made their
home into the gutter at our feet, outside. One stared back, tossing its head defiantly to
one side. I averted my gaze and watched the others as they were watching me,
peacefully. I often wondered how come they never drowned when it rained, or did
they?
Sophie waved a hand in my direction. I smiled. I could not help thinking how
unusual her beauty was, very discreet but striking, very foreign. She was pleasant to
talk to and her dreamy eyes added some kind of mystery to her personality. She had a
character that fitted her appearance perfectly. I thought she wasted a lot of time and
energy designing scenarios of lives she did not want to choose from. One day she
would imagine herself a perfect housewife, the next day she would be the first
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