Train to Paris

[franceslievens]

Reading my book in the train, is reading with pauses. I get easily distracted by what moves next to me and is trying to dismember me when my arm doesn't reside in my chair. Most passers-by aren't worth the look they so cunningly steal from me. Then there's her: An angel dressed in white, a sweet little girl ready to confess before her first comunion. Until she stumbles in the shaking train, and looks nothing more than styleless and dull.

To read up on my adventures when I actualy arrived in Paris, please check out frenchani's quick and dirty rendition. Flist-membership required for reading!