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When
I was a student in Paris, from the window of my room,
I used to see this wonderful stranger who was waiting
for her bus every day at 13:30 sharp; there she was,
sitting on the bench.
Legs crossed, her eyes were lost in infinity: she was
dignified, refined, distinguished as if she were going
to shoot photos for a magazine. I could not imagine
her but in this attitude of unashamed beauty.
Lord, how beautiful woman is when she knows how to make
the best of herself!
I never knew if her voice fell in step with the panache
of her beauty, because one day she did not come to my
visual rendezvous, and never came since then.
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