Blue It is not so much that it is hardly undistinguishable, but enough to stop me dead in my track.

Can it an indolent thread of deja-vu lost from another conversation? Whatever it was, I was feeling di y from the clutter of emotions seeping through the crevices of my mind like an insidious intent. Whoever the person waiting in the damp bus station was, she seemed familiar in the way she moved, the way she scrutini ed the empty lane! I felt weary and I didn"t know why# that I will not deny. $ecalling the wishful but incorrigible dreams of understanding meaningful encounters like this, I thought back on all the past lovers, the past friendships and cramped goodbyes, wondering how long will it take until the missing shade of passionate scarlet would animate the blue rain, the blue pavement, the blue umbrella this woman was holding. I drowsily glided through the prickling %pril downpour# that, I remember. &hough, it seemed as if centuries had passed. &he lone figure struck a delicate chord in the core of my nostalgic self' the woman was none other than me, the person I could have become if I had glided down another path than my own. (eeing her, this stranger, burned. It burned because it made me not live, but be okay. )aving her at such a distance from which I could see but not touch was compelling and bi arre. )ere I had everything I could have been, but never will# the limits I would never transcend because they have been deadened by the weight of other choices. We talked and talked, tripping over the damnable rainbow, but some days it did not matter... (lowly, as if touched by the gentle feather of a white pigeon I was allowing myself to e*perience the absurd. &hough I knew that this better, none*istent version of the average woman I have become was nothing more than a fickle vision, I wanted to feel the poisonous arrow in all its glory. +aybe!maybe ne*t time we will tighten the gap between us more. %malia (tefanescu.