I remember the little house perched on the mountain slopes, near our home. It looked fragile and thin, and inside when it was raining you could feel as if you were in the middle of the cloud, in the rain. My friend Charlie came here with his mum during the week ends : it was her boyfriend's home. Charlie was a tall, blond, sporty boy, he played basket ball and he loved fishing. I don't remember how we met, he was quite shy and I was solitary. But we got along so well that we couldn't wait for the end of the week to meet each other.
We would take our bikes and go down he river, Charlie with all his fishing gear and me with a book, some cake and a bottle of water. We would sit side by side, busy, quiet, happy to be together. After a while, when we had enough, we'd go on our bike someplace else and sit in the grass to talk, looking at the sky and the birds. It was always hard to leave and head home.
One day, we were at his house. The sky was dark with menacing clouds, it was no day to go wandering in the mountain on our bikes ; earlier in the week the storm had badly damaged some trees nearby. We decided to stay in. Charlie went in his little bedroom, wood on the walls, small bed in a corner and his bag of clothes half spilled on the floor ; I noticed a box I hadn't seen before. He opened it : it was a violin. He took it out, set the music on the stand and started playing.
It was beautiful. I was transported in another dimension. I was transfixed by the music and the intensity with wich my friend was playing. He seemed to be in another place, transformed by the notes, dancing with his bow.
After that day, I would always ask him to play for me when we were back from our outings. I loved to watch him grow and move with the melody, expressing something I had never witnessed before, living the music as he was playing. He seemed to be in another world altogether, and I could only have a glimpse of it. It was like looking at someone from behind a window, half hidden.
One day, he told me he could not play for me anymore. He said he had no time to go out either. He took his distance. I told him I'd wait for him, that I'd be there if he wanted to do anything.
We never saw each other again. His mum split with her boyfriend. They never came to the little house on the mountain anymore.
And I went alone to read by the river...
We would take our bikes and go down he river, Charlie with all his fishing gear and me with a book, some cake and a bottle of water. We would sit side by side, busy, quiet, happy to be together. After a while, when we had enough, we'd go on our bike someplace else and sit in the grass to talk, looking at the sky and the birds. It was always hard to leave and head home.
One day, we were at his house. The sky was dark with menacing clouds, it was no day to go wandering in the mountain on our bikes ; earlier in the week the storm had badly damaged some trees nearby. We decided to stay in. Charlie went in his little bedroom, wood on the walls, small bed in a corner and his bag of clothes half spilled on the floor ; I noticed a box I hadn't seen before. He opened it : it was a violin. He took it out, set the music on the stand and started playing.
It was beautiful. I was transported in another dimension. I was transfixed by the music and the intensity with wich my friend was playing. He seemed to be in another place, transformed by the notes, dancing with his bow.
After that day, I would always ask him to play for me when we were back from our outings. I loved to watch him grow and move with the melody, expressing something I had never witnessed before, living the music as he was playing. He seemed to be in another world altogether, and I could only have a glimpse of it. It was like looking at someone from behind a window, half hidden.
One day, he told me he could not play for me anymore. He said he had no time to go out either. He took his distance. I told him I'd wait for him, that I'd be there if he wanted to do anything.
We never saw each other again. His mum split with her boyfriend. They never came to the little house on the mountain anymore.
And I went alone to read by the river...
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