The “World room” was still quiet and warm. Through its triangular window, you could see ghostly white flashes lightening up the sky.
Summer was here and school was finally over! As the bell rang at the end of the last hour of class, the building vibrated with the ecstasy of newfound freedom. Excited school kids were running all over the place. Some were hugging and kissing, wishing each other great holidays. Others were hastily checking some last minute summer class information on the downstairs’ noticeboard. In a few hours, the building would be deserted for two whole months. The buzzing energy would leave place to a silence that would only be broken one last time by the cleaning team when it came in later to erase all traces of another vanished school year.
La Blonde imagine les pires scénarios. Et si la Brune avait raison et que le jeune homme était effectivement un loup ? Dans ce cas-là, il a pu dévorer son amie et elle-même était peut-être en danger. Le matin, avant de prendre son café, la Blonde réfléchit rarement avec lucidité. Elle est même prête à croire n’importe quoi, y compris les contes de fées.
An acrid, metallic, thin-hazy smoke was tingling in my nose, itching in my eyes. Beads of bright red lights appeared like balls bouncing in front of me. A line of white light spots, shining from the top of what looked like steel tree trunks, was receding into the distance. My first feeling was that of being in a tunnel, enclosed on each side by walls of tessellated concrete, metal and glass with a dark velvet blue, almost black, ceiling.
(by Christina Terle)
When my friends told me stories about you they always concluded with the same statement: “Well, you either like it or hate it”. Their stories left me unimpressed, as if to say: My mind is made up, do not confuse me with the facts. Indeed, my mind was made up. I wanted to visit you and if somehow possible stay with you for a little while.
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