The disappointments, les déceptions

Dearest you,

Its like a hold in the heart. A temper in your steps, a fly away hair in your face, just when the photographer screams CHEESe.
its like the little girl sitting on the last step of marble, watching the crystals glisten all the above the opulent foyer, right before her parents throw her into abounds of pain. Opulence often reminds me, that there’s only so much room left to be happy. But that’s juste me.
It’s like the day when the loving Smiths adopted a child from an orphanage, somewhere in the world.
You bring her in, place her valise onto the step and then look at her, lost in the awe of expression. But she pauses, she inhales all of her little fears et pains all the way to when she felt betrayed, when mommy dearest et father not so dearest throws her into the world without a hope. She still holds on to the idea that they will too, one day find her and wrap her into a life of a petit comfort.

uneasy really. Unfortunate too much. Painful that word reality. Scorned. Forgotten. Absurd.
Relentless she felt. Holding back the tears.
But look at the way the crystals glisten, way up in the horizon of notable newness. But when she holds her hand to pull off the over worn argyle gloves that had been passed down from many generations, she feels flawed.
All the way down to her torn chaussettes.
I fear I felt her pain echo all the way on the other side of the world. My Aidia. My darling Aidia.

my most important of a tale  that was …
So dearest world, dissatisfaction et disappointments are quite the normal in a world so grey. So grande. So confus.

To my bery very petit Aidia, I hold your hands et I welcome you to warmth, love and some comfort. Often it’s the ones like you that make me feel at home. Well, at home with the great disappointments of the grande world.
pour les orphelins

J’adore the gloves that give you hope.

Your writer,

RS