Madeleine Alves
A glance. A sensation. Everything she could remember after that moment were the feelings...
She didn't notice the red car passing around her, the shooting, the noisy crowd that were in the street right behing her - nothing. It was like a talk show on mute.
But her?...
She could feel that beautiful thing she didn't have the opportunity to hold inside for so long... too long, in fact. All because of that deep eyes' glance - those ones full of sunrise, of rainy day, of reverie, of first beloved kiss...
...all of a sudden, she felt a part of... of... of...
(...it doesn't matter...)
...she was part of. She was It. She was In. She was everything. So many years she swore that there was a breeze of wind shaking her hair and touching her face, but I can't swear if it wasn't her inner breezy soul taking her right above the crowd - all of a sudden she had wings...
On the other day, she went to the street again. She was renewed. There were no noisy crowd, no shooting, no red cars around. Just her pretty smile again, the people in a hurry through the city sidewalks. Then, she stopped in front of a DVD shop. There was a beautiful poster of a movie called High Up High Plans. Against the blue sky, there was the photograph of a woman dressed like an angel. Somehow, she was too similar to our character...
...but she didn't register this information...
...'cause all she could see on the show window was her reflex printed on the glass. And, against her colored and peaceful figure, the black-and-white of the local bank.
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