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Location: LONDON, Bethnal Green, United Kingdom

I have been over-assisted and over-protected by loving parents in a safe and healthy environment. As a result I am still single and a very bad cooker. I remember my first kiss which wasn't really a kiss since I didn't know how to kiss. I remember this very skinny tall guy but I really hope he doesn't remember me ! I remember this summer love with Alex, and my best friend going out with him 3 years after. I remember Marc, Geoffroy, and Thomas, all ex-neighbours... all ex-boyfriends, all ex-lickings. I remember this Indian daddy's boy offering me this awful curtain with Piccadily Circus embroidered on it. I remember dancing with this fake blond-haired Spanish guy just to make the true black-haired one next to him jealous. I remember America and these 2 guys : one I was fancing, the other one I went out with. I remember Venice, the bridge, the night and the kiss with this Italian guy... whose name I can't remember. I remember this summer, playing and running after the boy I loved, before I lamentably fell on the floor... I will stop on this sad event which could be a good metaphore of my vain pursuit of Love.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

LET ME TELL YOU OUR LOVE STORY (3)...

Part 3 : The blind date
(This very day, I fell in love with YOU)

I am in Waterloo Station. It is the 8th of December 2003. The clock on the wall indicates 11.12am.
I have been staring at this girl for more than 32 minutes now. She seems to be waiting for somebody to come out from the arrival gate of the Eurostar station. What else could she be doing in front of this gate ? The expression on her face keeps changing from excitement to boredom and impatience. She noticed I was looking in her direction. I am standing about 3 meters away from her and take advantage of this girl's turning her head in the opposite way to photograph her.

What I am doing there? Why am I taking pictures of this person I don't know? Like her, I am waiting.
She is waiting for somebody and I am waiting for them to meet.
You can call this voyeurism. Yes, I am a voyeurist. I shadow these people. I am keeping a close eye on them, getting in their life without they awareness. I am taking pictures of their private rendez-vous.
But I am not a perverse jounalist documenting a gossip, or a private detective payed to shadow a stranger.
Nobody payed me to wait here during hours at the same place than these people.
I am here to feel what they can feel while waiting for the absent person.
I want to share the same boredom, and emptyness, the same disappointness when the person they are waiting for finally doesn't show up. On the contrary, I want to experience the same happiness and fullness when the meeting finally happens.
I don't know these people, and they don't know me. But I do want to know who they are waiting for.

I am waiting until they meet. Then the girl kisses her friend, and they both disappear. I don't follow them. This is not my purpose. I leave them together and turn my attention on another stanger standing in front of the gate where the girl was standing few minutes ago. He is examining the face of each person coming through the gate, quite not sure who he is supposed to meet. The piece of paper he is holding, shows the name of Patrick Bouvier...

This day, I spent 6 hours in total with YOU. This very day, I fell in love with YOU


Choose a date to watch
# 11h12 am : WATERLOO STATION
# 2 pm : TRAFALGAR SQUARE
# 3h30 pm : PICCADILY CIRCUS
# 5h00 pm : LEICESTER SQUARE
# 7h25 pm : SHAFESTBURY THEATRE

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I loved the slideshow Trafalgar Square. In a sense I am also a voyeur, because I love to watch you (or rather look at you) but you were seen, so at that moment you became a watcher not a voyeur. It's tricky, n'est pas staying a voyeur ?
Is it Patrick Bouvier Kennedy ?

2:02 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

if you know "Les deux magots", "La coupole", le "Café de la paix", and some other here...
Take a beer, or a cofee on the terrace, look people coming and going... and imagine having or not a part in their life as the "Invisible man", it's wonderfull to escape in unexplored lands... like this.

8:58 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

je suis en complet accord avec toi Jacques... c'est de loin Trafalgar qui remporte la médaille d'or... et j'adore aussi m'y mettre à l'affût, non loin de St Martin's in the field, près de l'une des fontaines...
et me glisser dans le roman des vies, comme le fait Jean de Paris aux "Deux magots"
Si tu viens à Paris, peut être nous y retrouverons nous ??? J'aurai une rose à la boutonière...
Who knows ?

6:11 AM  

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