The silent goddess

I must continue on the theme of light. After work last week, it was still too hot for autumn. People willingly walked barefoot in the park, young people, bare-chested and beautiful, juggling. I was too hot with my vest and windbreaker, as if from a season too far ahead of its time. People smiled, ate and drank in small groups, laughed, breaking their necks to offer their thirsty throats to the sun.

This sun, already very low on the horizon, breathed almost watery energy. Around the large park, the city polluted with its noises, covering the dialogue of birds, the song of trees. But, protected by the vegetation, the park managed to recover its voices.

I walked very slowly, absolutely moved by the moment, tired also by my day. I would have liked to be with people, to be able to talk to them in wisdom and caresses, to sit next to them and imagine telling them that I loved them. I did sit on a bench. Only the horizontal bombardment of the sun kept me company. The water of a fountain shone with what was left of light, announcing a virtual nocturnal funfair, that of the last insects, of the last loves.

I breathed deeply, my thoughts and words remaining within me. I started walking again, reached the sidewalk and Saint-Laurent Boulevard. I went home and went to bed. On the wall, the light again, silent as a goddess.

I was at peace with, as an anchor in this water of the day, sad happiness.