52.
The time has come to leave London to go to, how do they say? Ah yes, the suburbs. The landscape is less urban. A few trees and fields are appearing with pretty fall colours. But nothing will replace the beauty and peace of my Fenlands, marsh, woodland and wide skies. I miss my countryside. My house too. Mom, more than anything, despite the gulf that there was between us. Although it picks up more speed, Jacky’s scooter is much less impressive than Damien’s motorcycle. Behind Jacky, I’m thinking of Damien: of our kiss yesterday and the one we could have exchanged today, of that failed act. Why? Ah, Damien, what are you doing at the moment? Why did you leave so quickly? Will I see you again one day? Jacky finally leaves the highway. We passed near an airport. Planes take off above our head
- Writer
