It hurts like hell.
I finished working and i just wanted to come home.
Point is that i’m not a biker nor a PRO… so when i though “Oh yeah let’s jump over this step” in the rain… i just fell.
But… good point for me: i fell with style.
My knee btw was injured and when i got off from the bike i saw the blood.
I went in my new house and realized that i couldn’t find disinfectant.
And when i was with my knee in the shower, trying to clean the wound with water, i realized how lonely i felt. When i got hurt, i always had someone next to me. It made me feel good to know that i was in pain and someone was there, to help me or just stay in silence, next to me. I’m not a complicated girl for this.
Sometimes a silent presence means more that hundreds of words.
When i woke up… i found my wound infected. And as it was sunday…. pharmacies and drug stores were closed. Thankgod my parents came one day in Paris, so when i told them i had a problem they tried to help me. As i had no solution and i had to go working i decided to leave just some minutes befores and ask the help of the Firefighters of the hotel i work in.
Yep, in France, when you got hurt, you call Firefighters.
Well there was this firefighter who was very kind with me. For him it was just routine and he didn’t pay a special attention to me… for him it was just… “normal”. But for me… it was everything.
Lonelyness make you realize how precious persons around you are.
When you’re lonely like me, and you just moved in a empty house on your own… there’s no one to help you to trasport stuff, that keeps the door opened while you’re coming in with a heavy box, no one to cheer you up after a long day of work, nothing cooked, no one who will give you his/her arm to catch once you fell. It’s just you and a huge city full of strangers.
So when this guy smiled at me and treated me… somehow i felt i was going to cry.
Finally here i am, waiting to heal… hoping that loneliness and dirt of Paris will not infect me again.