THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION

ence. Love can sometimes be misleading, and we no longer recognize it. It's like it never existed. I don't know if Paul noticed

even if it means putting a vase overflowing with fresh roses just like things were at the s

d his life. He, too, changed mine. If only my thoughts could enlighten him, put him on the right track. In 'Paul,' I hear a little the softness of the word 'shoulder,' and I find it as comfortin

myself be trapped. Again. Like yesterday. I blame myself like a woman on a diet who sneaked a bite of two croissants on the spot. They gave

ly want to grab a cigarette and get out of the window to watch the passers-by while spreading my smoke because, in my mind,

like it is working just fine. I see her. She reminds me of femininity, and chills run through down my spine without being able to refrain them. They go too fast for me, just like my thoughts. I find it hard to focus on anything other than this woman. I do not know

ini infidelity of nothing at all. It would be a nice one but quickly forgotten because her man is waiting for her at home. Would she feel guilty like the regrets that gnaw at me? But basically, if I analyze: why have remorse? What are they here for? It

feeling disappointed. No one deserves to experience disillusionment. I was not perfect. My actions were nothing like those of an architect who masters plans well. I felt lost, and, at the same time, I loved to get lost and scream in that pillow. It was as it was wait

I had time to smoke two cigarettes. Bad habit, I know, but for the moment, I have not found a way out. Watch Isabelle gave me courage, but all this is like devouring passion; it