quinta-feira, 1 de outubro de 2015

Love and the train

by Caroline Stampone
Here it is not my home. I am here alone. First, she was waiting for me, back home. Then, she said 'or you come home now or we are done'. I use to love her. But I wasn't ready to go back. I decided to stay. She turned off the Skype connection on my face.
I use to go to work by bike, but then I moved. My new home was far away. So I started to take the train. It was the best thing that I could have done. Each time that I took the train I fell in love. Women here are so tall and independent, and to make it better, you will not believe it, they are all blond. Real blonds, I mean. Completely blond, if you can understand me, and luckily for me, they are a bit tired of the blond guys that they can find everywhere.
During my first trip I just looked at her. 23 minutes, 7 stations, looking at her. Then she left the train. For a second I thought about going after her, but then I remembered that I have a meeting, early in the morning. For the rest of the day I felt like I had lost the chance to talk to the love of my life. It was a sad day. Around 16.00 I left work and I went to the train station again. I was still a bit crestfallen, thinking about the stranger that could have been the love of my life and I had just lost. Then I noticed an even more beautiful young woman. She was reading some blue book. The title said something about elephants and art. She had beautiful hands. I was half a meter in front of her. When I breath deeply I could smell her chamomile shampoo. Maybe it was her hair conditioner. I wasn't sure. What I knew was that I was in love again, and men, she was blond again. This time I could look at her for almost 40 minutes. Then she left the train. I realized then that I had past my station. So I went back, happy and light, to have find my second love of the day.
The next day I found my third love. A blond with gray eyes. Her hair had one strip of pink, but I thought it was ok. In the end she was still blond and that pink strip was probably only a temporary thing, her registered mark while she was trying a kind of private revolution... Also, I was curious about how would be a real blond with piercing. She had a small collection of them, one on her nose, another on her left eyebrow, and one down her mouth. I imaged if she had other ones. I spent the whole trip looking at her. She noticed. Before she left the train she wrote her number on my hand, without saying anything.
I wasn't sure if I should call her or not. In the end, that Platonic quick train's passions had been a safe way to forget her. To forget that she had put me in that position: 'you need to choose if you want me or your career.' Who she thinks that she was? She was not even a real blonde.
In the end I called the girl from the train. We had a hot night together and it was it. When I asked her name she asked if I want a lie. I didn't reply. Instead I kissed her. We had a good time and she left.
Next time that I got in love on the train I decide to follow the rules of the girl without a name. The result was interesting, but not what I was expecting. The blond girl slapped me in the face. It made me think about home and all the drama.
In the next days I stayed out of the train. Worked from home and just walked to the grocery store. After a few days I was ready for the train, again.
Tomorrow it will complete six months that I have been falling in love on the train. The final balance? Not bad. I had a few hot nights, a lot of cafe latte, once it was a soya latte with a vegan blond girl. Seven slaps on my face, then I gave up the rules that I learned with the girl without a name. She was more an exception than a rule. I also gain much less hours alone, what mean much less hours thinking about her, that fake blonde.

What can I say, to fight loneliness some people drink, some people date trough the internet, some people play video games, some people cook, well, I fell in love on the train.

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