A pulso y boli bic

sábado, 5 de noviembre de 2011

We are just dreamers.

It was raining when I met him. Before telling this story, I must say this is a story of "girl meets boy" but it isn't a love story.
He was a strange boy. He was tall and very thin. He had black and curly hair and enormous green eyes. I was impressed by his smile. I never knew his name, he never talked a lot.
We went to the park everyday and we contemplated the sky and the river. When it was raining, he always took his guitar and I listened his songs. They were beautiful compositions, they were... wonderful, soft, precious. The lyrics told about a new world, mysterious places, lost old cities, lost oceans, lost forest...
While I was with him, I never felt alone. I was happy and I had no problems. But one day he dissapeared. He wasn't in the park and I didn't hear the chords of his guitar anywhere.
I cried a lot and I was very hurt. I was alone. At night, I saw a new e-mail in my computer. I didn't know the sender:
"The life is just a dream, and we are just dreamers. I need to pursue my dreams. I need to arrive to unknown places. I want to be free. Forget me not."
A goodbye message. He wrote this letter from me.
I grew, six years passed and I am still here, in the park. I learned to play the guitar and now I am a little composer. I really miss his smile. I miss him. But he wasn't here.
Although, I don't forget him. I will never forget him.

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