A week ago I left my man of six years,my cat of one year, my flat of three, my job of five and London town of eight years.A frozen blanket is covering me since. I heard his last words to me over the phone " you ll never find a man who is going to love you as much as I do".I know he's right. But I don't want to find another man, I just want to find myself and I need to be alone.I always felt that my body was mold to be against his. My words became poetry against his ears. My thoughts were waves of images and songs, of improbable ideas. In this six years I never been bored for one minute and I felt absolutely adored every seconds, desired at every moves. But I have the sensation that London has eaten us alive, making our beautiful story surviving when it should have been thriving on the shore of a coastal town. I m off to Moscow now with my baby blue eyes loved in a dark, cold and silent place of my heart. It s been a long week without any of his words and winks. I feel so dry.
