R O M E O

Naslonjena na prozor koji gleda u dvorište zgrade u 17. arodismanu Pariza, opijena srećom, sa željom da zauvek ostanem tu gde sam, razmišljala sam koliko je ljubav važna za inspiraciju. Odjednom mi je proletela misao, šta ako nekada ne budem zaljubljena? Ali uvek ću biti zaljubljena u Pariz, i to je dovoljno, pomislila sam.

To majsko jutro je bilo sveže, trava je prijatno mirisala, i ništa se nije čulo, iako je iza dvorišta saobraćaj u aveniji bio živ. Osetila sam miris kafe, i naslutila ukus toplih kroasana koji su me čekali. Živote, divan si, pevala sam u sebi. Tada sam začula glas starije gospođe u stanu ispod kako zove: “Romeo, Romeo, hajde dođi.” Izvila sam se malo više da vidim ko je Romeo koga zove, ali se niko nije pojavio. Obuzela me je neuobičajena radoznalost. To nije ličilo na mene. Mislim da je sve poteklo od imena Romeo i od moje zaljubljenosti i opijenosti gradom. Ko je Romeo? Kako izgleda? Da li je zgodan stari gospodin koga ona zove i čeka. Romeo, koliko simbolike u svemu. Pariz, Romeo…ljubav. Možda se tu krije neka romantična priča.

Sledećeg jutra, dok sam sabirala utiske prethodnog dana i noći, naslonjena na prozor srkutala kafu, opet sam čula isti glas kako doziva Romea. Pogledala sam na sat bilo je oko devet. Ovoga puta sam se izvila malo više, sreća što je ograda od kovanog gvožđa bila jaka inače bih ispala. Zar da nastradam zbog Romea u Parizu, nasmejala sam se sebi.

“Ko je Romeo? Kako izgleda? – nisam mogla više da izdržim i krijem radoznalost.

Kroz zarazan smeh sam dobila odgovor: “Romeo je mačka. Svako jutro u isto vreme ga zove na doručak.”

Zagrcnula sam se s kafom! Smeh se orio!

A taman sam očekivala ljubavnu priču.

 

ROMEO

Leaned against the window looking out onto the courtyard of the 17th arrondissement old building in Paris; overwhelmed with happiness and desire to stay forever on that place, I was thinking how important the love is for inspiration! All of sudden a thought crossed my mind: “What if one day I stop being in love?” But I’ll always be in love with Paris, I thought, and that will be enough.

That morning in May was fresh, the grass of the backyard had pleasant odour of spring, and you could hear no sound, despite the traffic behind the walls. I felt  the coffee scent and couldn’t await the taste of warm croissants, left for me at the kitchen table. “Life, you are beautiful!” I was singing to myself. In that very moment the voice of an old lady echoed from the flat below: “Romeo, Romeo, come here please!” I leaned a bit more over the window to see who is mysterious Romeo that lady is calling, but anyone appeared to be there. I was overwhelmed by unusual curiosity. It was not normally my case. I think it all started with the name “Romeo” and my admiration and love toward the city. Who is Romeo? How does he look like? Was he an old handsome gentleman whom she was calling and waiting? Romeo, how much symbolism in everything. Paris, Romeo … love. There must be a romantic story.

The next morning, while I was gathering the memories of the previous day, leaned against the window with my first coffee, I heard the same voice calling Romeo again. I checked the time and it was about nine o’clock. At this point I leaned even more and luckily the window bars were strong enough, otherwise I would drop! “I better not harm myself because of the Romeo in Paris”, I laughed inside.

“Who is Romeo? How does he look like?” I could not hide my curiosity anymore.

I got the answer that dissolved into laughter: “Romeo is the cat! She is calling him for breakfast every day at the same time.”

Almost stifled with the coffee, we bursted out of laugh!

And I just expected one romantic story.

 

 

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