Summer Story

Desculpem-me pelo sumiço, viajei e acabei perdendo o ritmo de escrita. No momento estou trabalhando em um conto que está exigindo bastante da minha paciência, mas para não ficar com moscas por aqui, vou postar uma pequena crônica que escrevi em inglês. Como estou com muita preguiça de traduzir para português, vou deixá-la assim mesmo. Espero que gostem!

There are things that happen and you don’t believe on it after. It seems like a memory created by your brain. You know what I want to say, no? I’m talking about a kind of fantasy that you create to be happier than you are. For exemple, if you want a car, you dream that you won or bought it.

But I wasn’t dreaming. That’s the point. I remember not clearly about what happened. I drunk a lot, I can say it. Not enough to be drunk, but what I needed to be happy. So I was a little funnier than I usually am.

I was on a line with my friend to the bathroom and I saw him! He was tall, with black hair and eyes. I found him pretty, but I was really distractive to try a conversation. The point is that just my friend wanted to go to the bathroom, I was just talking with her. So I said it to him in Portuguese – I’m Brazilian, remember that.

“Não falo português” He answered in a sexy way. I remember that I stayed a little paralyzed, you know? I know how to speak English, but in this moment I just couldn’t. I waited for a few moments, waiting for the English language inspiration, and I finally said:

“Oh, ok. I just said that I’m not on the line.” I did a signal to indicate that he could pass and he did it. But the conversation didn’t end. We talked much more, I can say.

I started to do a few questions, just to be nice. He said to me that he was from Paris and it immediately impressed me. I am a kind of person that always wanted to kiss a person of another country. I guess that in his moment I was already with my objective in my mind. I needed to kiss him, and I would do anything for it.

But I left him go. He was with some friends, so I couldn’t just go there and start a conversation, you know? I’m a little shy, and I know that you won’t agree with that. When I couldn’t see him anymore, I freaked out.

“Oh, my god! A French guy, did you heard that?” I asked to my friend, still impressed.

“Yes! And he is from Paris… Paris!” She completed, impressed like me “I didn’t talk with him, because I knew that you were interested for him!”

Yes, I was completely interested for him. That was a fact. He was cute, you know? And sexy. So I convinced my friend to find him with me and we did it.

We found him in a street with a lot of people. He was talking with his friends, so I waited. After all, he finally saw me and we talked again. This time he said that I could go to a pub with him. We went and after all, I finally kissed him. I guess that now I can be afraid of me, because I definitely hunted him. That’s a little crazy, isn’t it?