Tuesday, April 11, 2006

La Fenêtre d'en Face (Part 1)

A Little Tale for Springtime...

Hey! Did I ever tell you the story about the Lonely French Girl and the Kamikaze? No? Well, let me see if I can remember how it goes...

"Once upon a long ago, there was this guy right, this photographer guy living in an apartment in Paris. Living in a little box of an apartment, a tiny little weeny shoebox, not knowing his neighbours, not knowing anyone! You know how that sort of life can be... confining...

So anyway, one day, as he's washing his dishes in his little rabbit hutch, his gaze wanders across the way, and he notices something strange.

The old guy who used to live opposite isn't there any more, and in his place there seems to be this attractive young girl...

The furniture's still the same, the bookshelves, the desk, the two green lamps... none of that has changed. The only thing that has altered is the occupant. The occupant is not the same at all at all... and the photographer guy's mind starts to wander...

And he wonders about not knowing neighbours and cages and boxes and prisons, and he sees the young girl sitting in front of her computer, night after lonely night, and he wants to reach out and touch but the distance is too great and the social barriers too heavy, so he does nothing.

She has parties, she's not so lonely as all that, friends come and go, frequent her balconies, laughing, having fun, it's a good life, that one over the way, and the photographer guy is a little bit envious.

And one day, he happens to be washing his plates in the little corner kitchen as they say in shoebox-speak, and he looks across, and she's on her balcony with two friends, and suddenly their eyes meet. And the photographer guy waves, smiles and runs, like nothing unusual had happened, like it was the most natural thing in the world, to say 'hi', to give a friendly little wave, and then dive for cover behind the sagging curtains of his grimy windows.

What has just happened? He's not sure, but it's not the end, he's sure of that. It's a beginning.

Time passes... time flies...

(To be continued)

© Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free 2006

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