You said you wanted to touch the sea. You ran off like a child and i just stood there, lukewarm champagne in one hand, your handbag in the other. You giving me your drink and bag made me assume that this intimacy between you and the sea was something that i had no part to play in. But i was involved. This unmeditated love of the sea made me understand that all your blablabla about how you made fun a routine, a daily job with rules and obligations, was actually true.
I observed you this whole evening, a habit from the past that i cannot give up. It's not exactly spying. It's just that i have to see how you play, laugh and interact with other people. This shameless fun making, this startling ability to make people work, pay, do anything for you. This unstoppable smile. But i didn't see any joy, not like the way you laughed when you decided to touch the sea. No routine when you sighed me to come over because you wanted me to see the dazzling complexity of foam, like how it resembles a house of mirrors, the structure of the galaxy and i might add, how it resembles you.
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