A ten years old boy encountered with me. He wore a T-shirt with black and white stripes, a plastic bag in his left hand -- perhaps gonna help his mother fetch things home -- and a steel sifflet in his mouth. First he walked behind me, then he started to walk faster, in hop and skip; sometimes in front, sometimes in parallel, and kept looking back towards me. Finally he stopped aside, leaning his head, looking at me with his black, clear eyes, then asked:
"Madame, pouvez-vous me donner l'heure?"
I didn't respond quick, :P thinking a little while, then shew him my watch
on the arm; he stared at it for a few seconds, thanked me politely, running
away like a small deer. He looked back again and I smiled at him, he might
feel a little shy, so stepping calm, then with a nice "bonjour" to a woman at
the door, he entered a building. And then our routes split; only several
minutes, we appeared and disappeared in each other's life.
This little boy, however, made my heart calm and tranquil, with a little
bit warmness, even sweet. The eyes he looked at me, shy, polite, and appreciative. That is an appreciation a ten-year boy could give to a twenty-four foreign girl: chaste and pure, like a crystal, -- so beautiful, I'm moved to melt.
I walk on the streets, receiving plenty of gazes. Somebody doesn't speak,
but everything in mind writes in eyes. For many many persons, there's nothing
in: they stare at me but they are not looking. Some people noticed me, and if then I looked up and saw their eyes, they avoided my sights. For some, I see
what they were thinking. "Hah! foreign, asian woman, young, tired, nice-looking, how's she on bed?" etc, etc ... But this boy, his look, however, is the first I met on this foreign land; so pure and clear, with nothing else. Maybe it can only be on boy of this age. I wish time can play a game, to let me encounter THE him ten or twenty years older, then what would it be?
I only appeared several seconds in his life, he will sure very quickly forget about this transient moment, that there is such a person he had once met and asked for time. Maybe me too I will soon forget this little episode in my life, except for this little message left -- as if in the wind. How many people are in this world, and how long time we can meet again? One click is in one's life to wait. But what else am I looking for?
-- Wish one day I could have such a boy, gentle like him, dark hair, black eyes,
polite and timid, walking in the streets with black and white striped Tshirt, give shy and friendly look to a foreign girl, and then run to my side, whisper in my ears:
"Maman I saw someone on the street!"
21/07/02 CitéU Paris. |
