Memory about an israelian man.

I met you in India, in the Goa state actually. I was there since three months, and this travel make me flying. I was always asking me « why the life is so gorgeous with me? ». ‘Cause this wonderfull trip gave me so many strong things. Then, I was in the restaurant of my guest house. Just coming back from a nice tour with an indian friend, and I met you there. You were around a big table with other foreign people. My french friends already knew you. They talked me about you a little, they spend good time with you earlier. Anyway, this evening we talked about my travel and yours. And after that, everyday we looked each other like if we had to do something together, like if it was write on a book. Your smile was attracting me everyday. I couldn’t resist of it.
The day i planed to leave, to finish my travel quietly, i changed everyting because of this gorgeous smile, the light on your eyes, and the sound of your words.
I knocked on your door and I spent the night with you, you told me « you don’t had to go, you can stay ». I tought I’ll just leave later but finally, I’ve been in Israel with you. I canceled my taxi two times, my driver was so nice ! I told him « humm I met this guy, this is crazy but i want to stay with him ! » I remember his face, looking at me, what can he think about this young and innocent girl that I was.
We took a plane from Goa to Dehli, from Delhi to Moscow, and from Moscow to Tel Aviv.
I think I was proud of me, to do what I wanted to do.

Things begin to be weird when we arrived in isralian territory. The woman who checked my papers asked me why I wanted to go in Israel « I just met this guy in India, and I want to visit his country…  » She asked your name : Shlomo Kadosh. She gave me a « stay permit » for 3 months, I knew I’ll not stay for three months, I was thinking about ten days. At this moment of my travel I also wanted to come back even if I was so happy to be there with you. You were a part of my travel. This is so funny, at this moment, I didn’t know about the conflict between Israel and Palestin, I just heard a little. I even didn’t know that israelian speak hebrew, I tought it was unspoken anymore !! Haaaha. Now I’m so curious about it, and about your story. Because I don’t know anything about you. You were always saying « Some day all of this will be shanti »…

We spent the week in your mother’s appartement. I did’nt talk to your mother, I think I was affraid to do something wrong, because she is old and always sit, so tired by the life. There was a indian woman who care about her. I think her name was Bindu. I met your sisters, your nieces and nephews.

At the beginning of the week we have a little stupid fight. I was in your bedroom, thinking about my country, and you really wanted to buy me some bullshits to cut my hairs. I didn’t want that you buy me anything. Then we’ve been in this market for absolutly nothing, because I tought that you wanted to buy something else also but it was wrong. You just wanted to take care of me, but I didn’t need it. That was so stupid. I felt me like a child with his dad, you asked me « do you have any problem with money » and I answered « Yes I have a fuckin’ problem with money ». You tought I have debts, but I just wanted to say that my problem with money is I don’t want that anyone pay anything for me.

Every morning you cooked my breakfast : eggs, tomato and cocumber salad, with avocado on mazza. I came during pessar, jewish celebrate during one week to remember they was slaves in Egypt. So there was no bread when I was in Israel.
One day we’ve been to see your car, a little and old one. You were so happy to switch on it and you said me « we can travel !! ».
Then, we took the road, that was magic. We’ve been to meet two old friends of you : Benjamin and Shimon. We smoked with them, so i was not so objective.
Tel Aviv is a big city, with big buildings, really clean actually. When you go out there is a strong contrast. We saw the Bedouin’s town. You told me they have sheeps outside and big screens inside.
The road seemed long but it spent just 2 hours. You were drinving and singing, not talking so much. I was looking around me, thoses crazy dry mountains, and thoses broken stones.
You told me that the white dot in the sky was a camera, when i asked you why, you just answered « why not ».
At one moment, something cautch my intention. There was a wall with an high barbed, a backboard « No entry, No photography ». I saw a dome form and an high thin tour in the shadow of this town or factory or whathever it was. I don’t know because it was really far from the wall. I didn’t try to take pictures or to ask you anything about it. You were saying « We are just sink in the desert ».
Anyway, we’ve been in the dead sea. We swam on it. It was so curious and so sweet. Like flying in clouds.
We spent the night at the hotel. At the morning we went to Jerusalem. We’ve been to the wailling wall. You told me there’s a woman’s side and a man’s side. I didn’t want to go there, too much people. I took some pictures when i was waiting for you. Some people was angry. I felt a bad situation.
Because you can’t walk that much, you really wanted to take the bus. It was really full. And people didn’t give a shit about others. My blood was cold.
Before come back, we went to Tel Aviv to drink a coffee near the sea.

You were always talking about the theory of the King and the Queen. I understood, but now i don’t remember what you really wanted to say. One time you said « I call you Princess, because you don’t know yet that you’re a queen. » There’s always a King and a Queen… and then? You didn’t find your queen. You never stay with a woman that much time, because they always want more and more. We both had our travel notebook. I was writing about my trip. And you ? You were « recycling everyday the same idea in differents way ». When i asked you about it, you answered « Are you a french spy? »…

I saw on your papers in front of your job’s information « artist », i asked you about it, you just answered « why not ». And you make this draw of me like a child one. We’ve been to see some painting in Tel Aviv, you seemed inspirate, looking seriously all of those piece of art.
One time you told me about your study. That you learn the religious litterature, and that you tried to be a teacher. But you stopped quickly, because you don’t like the education system. You think that few pupils can’t stay behind a desk everyday, that children should have the choise to learn what they want to or to be in a garden playing with a ball or whathever.

I asked just one time about your scars, those two kind of hole on your right leg, because I felt you didn’t want to talk that much about it. We were in India, maybe it was the first night we spend together. « A robot shot me » and it really didn’t seem like a joke… After that you made two veiled references about that. One time you said you don’t like robots. And another time you were talking about israelien bakery, when you were in hospital because of those two shots, your sister brang you a kind of bakery (i don’t remember of it) because you ate it together in your childhood.

When I told you i wanted to come back in France you asked me when, « Soon as possible.  » I said. Later you were thinking about this sentence, because you told exactly the same one year before about France also. Like if someone send me to you. Like when the Indian autority send you back in Goa for a punishment but you met me.
« Why you want to come back ? Just go back there, and start to work again…? » This is what you asked me after i refused to bring you with me in France.
You were right, i’m just working, and this is so fucking boring.

Let it be.

Thank you to everyone, for reading. If someone wants to help me with my bad english, I’ll be happy to learn more and more.

La mort, ou ce que tu t’imagines quand t’es bourrée.

La soirée s’etait bien déroulée, pour une fois je me suis occupée de ranger l’apero a la place du service. Ca change un peu! Je me suis empressée de finir! J’avais envie d’aller a c’te soirée. Ressentir cette presence nocivement sucrée, et ce jeune suisse etranger qui me semblait plein de bonnnes volontés. On s’est rendu la bas avec deux collegues. J’attendais finement, l’arrivee de ce bel inconnu. La musique ne m’enjaillait pas autant que les derniers soirs. Mais ces presences me reconfortaient enormement.
J’ai passé plus de temps derrière le bar a demander des verres, ou a la salle des fumeurs pour me caler a discutailler qu’autre chose. Parfois je voyais son regard tendre me pieger, mais je ne pouvais disuctais avec lui. Son haura m’emprisonnait au mauvais moment. J’ai pu enfin discuter avec cette jolie blonde aussi vivante qu’un oiseau qui chantonne l’air que tu veux entendre toute la nuit. Elle semble avoir une vie tres active, aussi folle qu’elle. Elle m’epate. J’ai envie de lui dire que j’aimerai bien la revoir. Mais le regard de ce Belge me contracte la circulation.
J’ai pu aussi parler a la petite black de la cuisine, bien qu’on avait un peu commencer la semaine presedente. On peux entremeler nos histoires de tolards, enfin, nos histoires de familles dira-t-on. Elle me donne une energie conservatrice, et relativement seine.
Perdue dans le flux de l’action, les deux choupettes me proposent de les suivre, des gens vont manger quelque part. Mmmaaannger ou ca ?! Je les suis follement, esperant peut etre que son regard mieleux etait parti dans cette direction.
Le trajet me parrait long, elle discutent gentiement, je n’y prend que peu parti, mais je suis heureuse de passer un morceau de temps avec elle. Je ne les vois pas beauvoup durant la journée.
Une ambuance..
Je n’ai pas bien vu, j’ai cru reconnaite une femme avec des erraflures sur le visage, allongée sur le sol, subissant les mouvements des ambulanciers.
Juste derriere elle, sur le bord du trotoire, une homme est assis. Son adorable petit toutou assis a coté de lui. Son chien dégage un amour si chaleureux, que je ne peux m’empecher de me retourner plusieurs fois. Voir son regard accompli.
J’entonne aux filles que moi j’y retourne. Peut etre pourrais-je retomber sur ce tendre Suisse.
Le retour. L’adorable toutou. Ckkshii, ca me glace le sang, j’ai envie de lui attraper les deux joues et de le pendre dans mes bras.
L’ambulance est toujours la. L’onde me prend le souffle. Je ne regarde pas, je ne veux, mais j’appercois comme un drap qui se glisse sur son corp insatisfait.
Mon pas s’accelere. Est-ce reelement une personne qui ne respirera plus sur cette terre, un etre qui ne partagra plus jamais ses emotions avec les notres ?
Je pars. Je dois trouver quelqu’un, je dois en parler! Je dois l’ecrire!
Je cours. J’arrive devant les autres, la jeune et mignonne petite creature ecoute mon recit mais ait trop fragile pour le vivre. Je veux voir Binta. Je rentre en trombe. Elle est occupée, c’est pas grave. Me voila déjà rassurée.
Je me fond dans la melodie. J’ai tres peu danser ce soir la, je l’ai fait remarqué a pierre-alexandre a un moment d’ailleurs. Et j’ai pu apprecier ce bon Dawood aussi!
J’ai ete voir le chef a plusieurs reprises (je lui devait quelques verres), toujours assis dans le bon canape installé dans le coté chill-out.
Pierre-alexandre avait cette femme dans les bras, pleurant comme si sa vie lui avait echappé. La vague mortuaire a retraversé mon corps comme une lame aurait assechée un porc. Non.. ne me dit pas qu’elle connaissait l’Allongée-pres-de-l’ambulance? Tellement dechainee.
Plus tard elle est repassée dans mon champ, elle a parcouru mes bras, j’ai essayé de lui donné toute le forte tendresse que ma force me permettait de lui donner. Et..encore plus tard, je lui ai demandé son nom apres l’avoir vu déambulé, sa culotte preponrante, et apres avoir chanter « partir un jour » des 2be3 avec elle. Je ne m’en souviens pas. Hmmm, j’essaye, mais non vraiment pas. (J’essaye ne ressemblerai pas plus a « i’m trying » et j’essaie a « i try » ?)
Elle a les cheveux chatains qui lui remontent la nuque et lui donne une posture desinvolte.
L’ascenseur emmotionnel de la petite coquine avec ses pleurs et ses rebellions m’ont refroidit.
Je veux rentrer.
Je pars assez rapidement.
Je fais quand meme un petit Namasté! aux deux instigateurs de la soirée. L’engrenage repreeeesente!
Le suisse ne viendra plus a cette heure. Et le belge est parti depuis trop longtemps.

Cette experience m’a donné froid au coeur. Comme j’ai besoin d’aimer quelqu’un qui m’aime en retour.

« La morale de cette histoire, s’il y’en a une : c’est que chaque personne à sa moitié sous la lune. »

Quand j’ai regardé par la fenetre apres avoir ecrit cet article, le soleil se levait.

ps: J’avais tellement besoin d’ecrire a un moment que j’ai demandé un stylo au bar. Et voila ce que je viens de retrouver dans mon sac.