Saturday night, im walking home, both hands busy with marquet bags.My hair is a mess and im wearing my glasees.Its hot, i went out with a pair of flip flops, a regular hippie skirt and a basic t-shirt.I look hopeless but i feel great.
Next corner, the church.
The sidewalks are full of guests and cameraman. Bright lights all over the main entrance.
A beautiful vintage car with a big white ribbon tied on its roof is parked in full view.
Old people arriving early, they walk hand in hand with the matures.They are all so elegant, men in suits, women in sparkling gowns.The air is filled with a mixture of soap bath fragance, and french perfumes.I
feel so dirty.
I cant wait to take a fucking bath.
The first house moving i had in my life was as soon as i was born. For obvious reasons i dont have any reminiscence of that time.All i know is that i was carried from one tiny place to another without being asked or told.
The second... that was a good one !!We were living all pilled up in a little apartment and we moved into a rented house. It had a big playroom, a garden and a swiming pool !
We moved into an even bigger house.We actually bought it.It had everything anyone could ever dream.But living there we lost the only thing that ever had a mean.
It was absolutelly unexpected.I volunteered to take care of my brothers place for some months.It really toughened me up.And i never went back to my paternal house.
The fifth and last.
My own house.I couldnt be the least excited when i moved into my actual place.It was a big step and i was terrified.
Fortunately...that first stage is over.And i have “lived happily everafter ...” la la la.
Nowadays i am not planning nor willing to go anywhere.
But no matter our willing, there will always be one last involuntary moving !
Although we shouldnt worry about it, in that place ...no luggage is allowed.