What if it was her?
I wonder where this preference comes from, and whether it can be explained, but I have always preferred even numbers. I find them reassuring, even warm.
Their odd tendencies have a cold and tasteless side, they don't inspire my confidence. So I try to avoid them as much as possible. By the way, I had hoped for more for my 31st birthday...
There is one small exception in this strange reality: the number 5. I like this one. Go find out why. It does not reach the elegance of the 8, nor the simplicity of the 6, but I still find it a certain charm with its slightly rounded side. If it had to be associated with a color, I would choose yellow. A warm and comforting color.
When I played jazz, I always set the knobs on my guitar to get a warm, round sound, Jim Hall style. It was this sound that I enjoyed the most. Sweet melodies.
Beautiful Love was one of my favourite songs, the theme had inspired me with one of my most beautiful improvisations. When I listen to the two masters Jim Hall and Michel Petrucciani play this piece, I have stars in my eyes.
2018 should therefore be a year filled with sweetness. I can't wait to meet him. The feeling that she's holding out her arms to me. As if she invited me to come and put my head against her to whisper in my ear that everything will be fine.
It's not time for a balance sheet, and I don't like balance sheets anyway. To take stock is to look at what has been done so far. I rather want to turn my gaze now towards the future, the one I don't know yet. The rear-view mirror is adjusted to the night position, so as not to be disturbed by the lights of the past.
December 25th, Christmas Day. Well, that's funny. I'm back to my five, the exceptional. It's time to enjoy the family.
The reunion with those who have chosen to live thousands of kilometres away. The smiles, laughter and cries of joy of the little faces born after the year 2000. During an evening, the family circle closes around the table, welded together by unconditional love.
The timing of life seems to be accelerating at this time of year. Strange sensation. As if the passage from December to January was a finish line to cross as quickly as possible, in a race that never stops.
I'd like to slow down sometime. I wish I could lean on his shoulder and put an arm around him to stop him from running away. Make him understand how much we need him and that he doesn't have to run.
The new year. What if it was her?
Last night I was coming home from the capital after an evening spent in the theatre with friends. I walked in the cold and foggy, light-heartedness, recalling the pleasant moment I had just experienced. Simple things that do good.
In the space of a few hours, I found the restlessness of the Grands Boulevards. I was blending in with the masses, the Parisian masses. Young and old alike. Classics and originals. Lovers with glittering eyes, beggars with crying eyes. Paris will always be Paris.
In a few days, I'll be joining my even-numbered year. I wish her and me a happy trip. To you too, of course. I'm sure the colors will be beautiful.
With my belly full and my heart filled with love, I will soon find the ocean again, faithful companion of my new quest that awaits me.
A great story but you did not remember your true feelings that control your feelings
Nicely written @emilyava.. Keep it up.. I like the way you explain everything.. Thanx to share
I like 3, 6 and 9.