Soul crash.

The rain is falling on me, at the station. I'm waiting for the bus. Early hour. 4 AM. Cold. The winter hurts my face. But I'm young and I wanna feel free. I took my bag and my guitar. On the bus, looking through the window, I'm falling asleep. Some people are talking, kids are laughing, I'm thinking about my future. 6 AM. Still raining. The water is sliding on the window like tears on my face, playing with lights transforming the vision in a weird rainbow painting.

8 AM. I'm walking down the road, the rain falls on my face. Water caresses my skin, that's enough to make me well. Sometimes, I feel like a doll lost in a hostile space. A weird sensation like I'm going mad. I need to reconnect to my body. I need to feel. I'm walking down the road. Cold.

What am I doing here outside under the rainfall? Anybody knows?

No answer.

We all have so many questions. They all find a god to answer to. I have no God. I'm not sure. I just have my soul, my youth, my freedom. And all my dreams. I think I could have stars in my hands, I could share with people, through a song that anyone could understand. Youth. Find a reason to live in this world. We all try to invent our fairies. Can a doll find its own place in this hostile space? Why do I feel like a doll? There is an invisible puppeteer whispering in my head. It's not me. I'm cold. I feel lost. But I know one thing, I cannot control the world, I cannot have power over people, I don't want it. I just can live and have good moments. I'm cold. I feel alive. Alone, like on a desert island, I'm quiet. So many questions, but I'm quiet now. I'm walking down the road, the rain falls on my face. There's a little cafe called Bagdad. I'm hungry.

I'm like an alien in this place. Warm coffee, eggs and bacon. This moment is like an old movie based on a Tennessee Williams short story. I'm waiting for Bette Davis. She will push the door right now. Nobody. Only a young woman sitting across from me reading a book. Long black curly hair falling on her frail face. Her brown eyes concentrated on the mysterious world she's discovering through the pages she caresses with her delicate fingers.

I wanna feel your heart beating on my skin. Sleeping in my arms. Those simple things life can give me. Sweet heart, please, give me just one kiss. Just a little kiss I could put into my heart and make it grow into a flower of love. I want you in my arms to feel your warmth. Your body into mine. Your blood flowing through my veins. Sweet heart hold me please. Come closer to my secret world. Let your fingers run on my skin like a falling flower. I feel your body in sweat like dewy on a rose bud. Hold me close. I wanna feel your world through your eyes. Let me in. Give me your light. Let me feel your soul trough your breath like the wind blowing on some leafs. Look at me. Come inside my heart. Our consciousness into one.

I'm getting mad.

— What's your name?

— Yasmina.

If look could kill...

I take my guitar.

Yasmina. Your name sounds like a flower. Your beautiful brown eyes. Big obsidian pearls shining like a quiet lake. Blink Once. I fell in love. Blink twice. My heart breaks. Yasmina. I feel her, I watch her. She thrills me, I praise her. She rises me, she enlightens me. This shy, shy face. Looking at your graceful hands, my heart beats harder. Yasmina. A flower coming from an other universe. Yasmina. My heartbeat ends. Yasmina. Save me. Give me your breath. Yasmina. Your name sounds like a flower. Your delicate scent thrills me. Yasmina. I can feel her, I can watch her. I can't have her, oh, I want her. I can't hold her, she's elusive. Like an illusion of love. Yasmina.