vi var alla unga, mer eller mindre begåvade och vi var vackra


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I still remember all of it as if it happened last week, but it was summer then and it will soon be christmas now. it was my last night in paris, we had picked up a friend of theirs who just arrived from belgium. I forget if he was in brussels or antwerp. they were on their 7th joint or so for the day and I didn't inhale more than a fraction, I was too scared of getting the "pot weirdies" as someone once told me it was called, although we weren't smoking pot but hash. we had taken the wrong metro home from the rehearsal studio, it was my fault, we had to walk the long way home but somehow through a miracle there was a small shop right by the metro station that sold beer even though it was after midnight, a rare thing in paris. they were talking about music, I didn't really have much to say, I was sad because I had to go home and because of something he had told me 2 days before. not to get too attached, he didn't look at me in the same way he used to when I first arrived, nor the way he did when he visited me in london a month prior. I was sitting next to him on the sofa. I don't remember what they were talking about. I think one of the others were showing a music video on the computer. always something obscure from the 80's, I do like that kind of music, but I don't have much to say when it comes to discussing it. I reached for another beer, I was wearing a ring that he had given me the day before, he bought it for me at the flea market that I took them too, at porte de montreuil, (julia took me there when I visited her, when was it? 3 years ago? time flies.) A guy that I used to work with always used to open his beer bottles with help of the ring he always wore so I thought I should try it. instead of opening my bottle the beer cap chipped away a tiny piece of my ring, leaving a small hole. horrified I turned to him and said something along the lines of "oh shit! I broke the ring!" I hesitated, then I said in a voice meant only for him "I was going to wear it forever". he looked at me and said " nothing lasts forever" I can't remember if he held my hand. my whole worldd were falling apart when I heard him say those words. on his right arm he had my name carved in with a scalpel, a failed drunken attempt at making home made tattoos. I sometimes wonder if he still has the scar of my name, if that will last forever.

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