bien que mon amour est fou, ma raison calm la doleur dans mon coeur.
il ma dit, d'etre patient et garder l'espoir.

Thursday, 10 June 2010

I want to ride my bicycle

Recently, my math's tutor has become more of a friend. Drinking cups of tea and discussing her old romances seems to take up the hour we're meant to spend on algebra. I've always liked older people, I've never felt very comfortable in my own skin, being my own age. Mama says I was born 40. Her kitten is dying, and I've never seen a woman so dependent on a frail little bag of bones. Prays night and day, but when she sleeps, she doesn't dream of him.

I ride my bicycle to go and see her every sunday morning, I am infamous in Ainsdale for it, you may have heckled me once or twice, many have. If so do continue! Always appreciated. She dreams every night that she is riding a bicycle, something she hasn't done for about 50 years, and says she feels it's her only escape.

Funny the way the subconscious works, isn't it? 50 years. Some dreamy little girl comes along and it's all she can think of.

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