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Les Jours Tristes. Navigacija su mali trokutići koji će se pojaviti kada mišem/kurzorom prijeđete preko ovog teksta.
Udobno ste smješteni u blogu:
Les Jours Tristes. Navigacija su mali trokutići koji će se pojaviti kada mišem/kurzorom prijeđete preko ovog teksta.
● Stupidity and Randomness
● Christie. [22; 5.6.]
Germany. Zagreb, Dubrava.
Art. Languages.
German [fluently], English, Spanish and a bit of French, Japanese, Korean.
Russian, Swedish, one day.
Headphones and my favourite music ♬
Reading, writing, drawing, singing, dancing.
Japan. Animes. Mangas.
Tomb Raider fan ❤
Mythology and Ancient Cultures.
Optimism/Pesimism. Sarcasm. Irony.
Clumsy.
Yo no sé lo que you tengo,
ni sé lo que me haca falta,
que siempre espero una cosa,
que no sé como se llama.
“Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.”
— Julia Quinn
Theme by
°°. Adaptation was done by
Beth. Header and icon are from
here and
here.
Oh my God, this is so stupid. And it's in english, so this can't end well. But I can't stand this anymore. I'm listening to Bach for the exam I'm writing tomorrow, and there is nothing I can really do. No wait. It's Vivaldi. Pardon. I want to let my thoughts free. Even if they are so awfully... not romantic. *Google translate* Trashy. Yeah, trashy's the right word. But that's ok. I don't really care. I know I will later. But for now, I just want to let this out of my head.
***
He sat on his chair. The curtains were closed, there was only a thin shiny line between them, so the room was pretty dark. It seemed so huge that moment. There was only his desk, made of some dark type of wood, his big leather chair and a few paintings on the walls. The window behind him was from the floor to the ceiling. It was an awfully long moment of awkward silence. Or at least, it seemed so.
His fingers were intertwined and he was staring at me. But I couldn't read the expression on his face. It was to dark. I was staring at him, too, because I was afraid to say something. Actually, I was afraid to breathe, to break the silence. I feared the moment he would speak. But there was only silence. No one said anything. I didn't know if I should be relived or nervous. Well, it would probably be worse if there was one of those big old LOUD clocks.
After I don't know how much time had passed, he sighed and untangled his fingers. They were now resting on the desk. I wanted to read his mind really bad. But since that one time, I respected the privacy of his thoughts. At least, as much as I could. And as if he was the mind-reader here, he said:
„Look inside.“
I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He smiled a tiny bit. Those moments were really, really rare.
„Your allowed to read my thoughts.“
I wasn't really surprised. It's not that he tried really hard to keep his thoughts away from me. But it wasn't what I expected that moment.
„I don't want to.“
Now he looked at me with surprise in his eyes.
„What do you want then?“ he asked.
„I want you to tell me.“
***
...
Yeah, this is pretty much where it ends. There was a certain situation I wanted to describe, but I lost it. These thoughts are precious in some way to me and I don't want to destroy them. I mean, to change their way. So, I hope i didn't disappoint you in some ways, if you actually ecpected something from this, or if it was bad, made it even worse with this „ending“. But maybe I'll be able to finish it some day.
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