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Godspeed At first he didn't know who I was. My sunglasses, my ponytail. He looked at my trainers. "You are 'la' Carmen, right?" It was fictional to return to that place and see how almost every leaf was untouched. A van with a scary clown sprayed on the back belonged to a guy from Liechtenstein, "the sole person I've met from there" said Antoan... Do you want to continue reading this article? Click the right button here: http://carmencorrea.hatenablog.com/entry/2014/09/25/043000 Hi! I'm posting my daily writing exercises on this blog, come in to read the full text, and if you find some mistakes or you feel like giving me some feedback, feel free to write below! :)

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At first he didn't know who I was. My sunglasses, my ponytail. He looked at my trainers. "You are 'la' Carmen, right?" It was fictional to return to that place and see how almost every leaf was untouched. A van with a scary clown sprayed on the back belonged to a guy from Liechtenstein, "the sole person I've met from there," said Antoan. Antoan and I have been siblings in law since he drank the cold remains of from my coffeemaker decades, centuries ago, and I got mad at him for having an espresso in a whiskey glass. "How is life, girl?" "Too short, don't they say that?" "Well, that depends... not in on this side of the hill, I guess." The Sufi population had increased in the last times (awkward, maybe "since last time" or "in recent times"). Antoan was growing peppermint for them. "God wants the easy ways, don't mistake them with the short ones."

There was something missing though, between the rosebush and the wire fence. "Where is the palm tree, Ant? It was my age." " Buds ate it the last year." The mountains were a caramelized plasterboard stage (ooh that's good!) surrounding me. The river was clearer and faster, thinner than I thought. The time had exactly the same weight; the sound of the reed bed and the dogs barking.

"How's your mum?" "She's at the coast." "Does she still make up prank calls?" "Yeah, she does." "What a seagull your mum. The other day I reminded her. She used to swear she wouldn't travel to a country worst worse than this one. Now I share her opinion with her." "Where did you get robbed, Antoan?" "She was from Marrakesh." "If femme, fatale. (Clever ;)" "hahaha... you remember that! By the way, where have you been all this these years?" "Collecting grapes in marshlands. Can I pluck some grenades?" "As much many as you can reach out."

The valley was calm, the people was were quiet; it was the kind of muting that satisfaction holds not to be noticed, not to be disturbed by anyone, to taste itself, to survive someway. "Take care, Antoan." "Godspeed, girl!"

 

Thanks for sharing Carmen, I really enjoyed this one!

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