A year ago, I was in debt to the tall man, needing just a few points to get rid of him. (Fortunately, not in the way you might first think.) He was… Is that relevant? I just remember that he had a sister, identical to him: an arched nose, a triangular face, a lilting tone of voice (irritatingly pleasant); ‘… Her tousled hair a reflection of her owner’s personality …’: described in something I didn’t write (nor was it written for me, as some have mistakenly claimed). Even after reading it, I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect it’s him: ‘… I sat here alone, you see? …’: I see, and there he is.
‘… In my gaze I carry the innocence of a blind man, and the intentions of a wolf …’: again… Now I realise the possible interpretation I may have provoked, or rather just how ‘amusing’ that passage might have been; or sounded. I have no regrets (I’m not being cynical, of course).
Having thought long and hard about it, I finally see the end point. If that’s the case, I’ve simply relived his behaviour: “… I was his goal …”, “… He wanted me as an athlete seeks a medal, as someone covets a product …”, “… a child who gets a new toy …”, “… his obsession disturbed me …”. Anyway, one of the main reasons (for the current situation) was already clear to me: I wasn’t convenient for him, nor did I even ‘add value’ (to put it mildly, at least). And even so, I gave him flowers with a card. Ilário, not a single ‘thank you’ or even the tenderness of a gentle glance was directed at me, nor at the tall man. I didn’t put my name on the card. Why? I never imagined I’d be competing for his attention.
I wanted his attention; crumbs? Perhaps.