Leory Malger, 22. Northedame, Paris. 5.6.1540. 16 hundred hours.
I lost my love for Giselle a few years ago, i'm surprised to myself that i even survived till now. I was merely blinded by her sight, by her appearance. Think of all the women out there, the women i would been missed. Giselle Malger is like a snowflake, twinkled fresh, from the unknown, large, blue, dimmed sky. It's hard to take care of, hard to hold on to, but visible to all things, making human kind to believe it's fairly beautiful. But it's not. It's ice, actually. It's formed up by your near by downright, disgusting river, but it is made by only colors on the outside, to make people attracted to them. Face it, it's annoying.
With Giselle's typical Thursday shoppings that i always found... a imitating skill of her to get me, irritated. But no, that's just a part of her. Baby, stay here. I'll go check something over there.. with her voice trailing off, she practically ran over to the clothing sections, where women -like her- scratch over each other, for rhetorically items. I sighed, scratched my dark curled-head.
The sound of an angelic, tendered voice touched my pounding heart. When you're dreaming over something fairly mythically unseen, and when you wake up, you know what you dreamt about is true, your life's complete.
"I was a little girl, alone in my little world.
Who dreamed of a little home for me.
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my house guests bark and leaves.
& laughed in my pretty bed of green.
I had a dream, that i could fly from the highest,swing.
I had a dream..
Long walks in the dark, through woods grown behind the park.
I asked God, who i'm supposed to be.
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie.
I said a prayer, and fell asleep.
I had a dream.. That i could fly from the highest,tree.
I hand a dream.
Now i'm old and freeling grey, i don't know what's left to say;
about this life, i'm willing to leave.
I lived it full, i lived it well. There's many tales i've lived to tell.
I'm ready now, I'm ready now, i'm ready now to fly from the highest;
wing.
I had a dream.."
What i first thought of this gypse girl, singing from the stage stand was that, despite her lost-able voice, but that she's not perfect. She isn't trying to be. Unlike Giselle, she's got more of the material of the upper-side whores, but she believes in what she's doing, what she wants to be. Giselle's just another whore that passes, trying desperately to seek her happiness through her lack of confidence.
She collected her small amount of change that was thrown at her, her skin: fragile. Her smiles and lips: naturally pink, blossomed, like the flowers on the trees of Sakura, in Japan. Her eyes: a pool of chocolate chip brownies that were newly made. She then jumped in joy on her other, blonded friend who was standing clapping in proud, on the left corner exit of the stage. And i mean, you love someone not because, they're perfect. Right? But you love them in spite of the fact that they're actually not. From that point of her singing her Dream song, which was a success, hands down, to the point that she was gladly hugging her friend, jumping with her own joy. She has the spark that not even desperate-Giselle has it.
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Sky - My Giselle (from a Theme by Adam de la Halle)by devic6672,819 views
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