I came in on an evening of hyena’s wedding; the sun was setting on a drizzle. As I took a walk along the Kacyiru pavement, I promised myself to write a little story at the storyteller’s café. It all made sense, I thought to myself: ‘I am a story teller and I am going at the storytellers café to tell a story’; I just didn’t know which one yet…
The sun, set and the rain briefly intensified, right in time to give me a quick face-shower as I walked, slowly in the garden from the library towards the stairs; I felt good!
As I climbed the stairs, I surprised myself with a shy smile on the thought of seeing Oriane there. Ah Oriane! With her beautiful big eyes, her warm voice and contagious smile… Sure enough she was there as I entered; seated, looking at the rain falling on the balcony wood. She noticed me first, called me out, I turned, I blushed. She looked exactly like in my five seconds fantasy, five seconds earlier. Luckily she couldn’t see it, no one could see it: Too dark…
It was love at first sight. with Oriane, but also with the café. When I did a tour, I did not stay long in one place. I felt privileged that it was my first time. Every corner I visited, I wanted to unsee it and start over again, for it was gorgeous.
I felt a sense of delicacy in this place. When the smiling waiter came, I didn’t dare ordering a coffee, I thought that was too toxic for today. I feared the sin, so I ordered a fresh juice; just like I refrained from asking Oriane for a dance, that’s for another inspired afternoon…
When I saw the mini-theater place, and the futuristic innovation village, I closed my eyes; like someone who’d seen a shooting star, I made a wish… I wished for young talents to be inspired here as I was, I wished for the same artist to design my house someday, maybe…
I felt frightened to write this story for I thought a better writer should tell it. I was intimidated in the face of beauty. I felt I would not know how hard to press. By telling the story I held something delicate in my hands, that I was worried I would break, for only the hands of an artist could handle it; an artist, as talented as the one who designed this…
Forgive me if I didn’t do it justice; I was trembling as I wrote it; it was as if I was telling a story for the very first time.. Thankfully I typed at the rhythm of the BVSC merengue that played in the background and kept the place warm and exotic…
I have to go, I can see my best friend and his voluptuous wife in the corner there, in a dating mood, giggling like kids… All my friends are here, but I haven’t spoken a word to them. I couldn’t find peace of mind; I couldn’t hold in one place, before I told this little story: at the storyteller’s café 😉
Posted 12th May