The chilled Sunday wind haven't stop Francesca from living the house she was at. She always inspired to be a writer and even though her nine to five job wouldn't give her the glamour and glitz of a novelist lifestyle, it would certainly give her the opportunity to prepare for when her time would come.
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"Walking in my direction I can see John Taylor, a very tall and well dress man. His shoes always well polished were the mirror to his not as transparent business. He was the proud owner of an luxury hotel chain. One of those who host private parties and poker nights with very restricted guest lists. His wife, always surrounded by her club friends would host the most glamours parties, a big portion of them to raise money for local charities in name of children and families in need. This was always one of her passions. When complemented about her commitment to the charities she would always say:
-We should all find our own ways to give back to the community. I am very happy to be able to support those who need and hope to be an inspiration to those we welcome to our home.- While raising a crystal glass of a 1973 vintage champagne to her lips.
Behind her, her husband would smile and turn his face to his potential new partner. The real reason behind the ostentatious friends gathering.
Today a different type of crowd had brought him to the park. Definitely not his favourite setting for a meeting, not unless he wouldn't want to be seen. The only problem to his plan was that someone else was already there, watching him and the young and thin blonde women that walk in his direction hugging him in relief. How very predictable..."
Before being able to continue to write, Francesca stopped herself while thinking of one of her previous characters. Very rapidly she flicked the pages of her notebook as if she had lost something. This was an emergency. She had to find what she had written about Amber.
"How very remarkable it is to see. To be able to observe every detail around us while our brain automatically creates assumptions of everyone and everything we see while relating all the information gathered with how do we collect our memories and how different events have been recorded into different levels of importance. How very extraordinary in fact is to see and not to realise how complex this all is.
The blue dream coloured sky revealed her in front me. Her very light smile- to make the sky woolly clouds envious- was undoubtedly the star of the show. An aura of heavenly cheerfulness was attached to every single of her moves. Her laugh, resembled to a piece of classical music, effortlessly beautiful. Both of them were undeniable bond by a very strong friendship. I can only imagine their mums had grown together and inexplicably they had become best friends. Against all odds, through high school and university they manage to keep contact, even after they stop speaking for three months after Maria missed Amber twentieth birthday party. They had always share the important moments of their life with each other. Nowadays they both work and share a home together. Successful in what they do, Amber was certainly the most creative of them both.
