Tag Archives: french


I have to go to this francophone event. It is organised by a lady from French Embassy who wrote a book about some historical period in Saarland. I hate history, as I said I hate looking back, so I immediately forget the subject. Our corporation sponsored her book, so me and the girl from Communications, Dana are here.

First there is a short speech and then a seated dinner. I am sitting next to Dana and to the guy from another sponsor organisation. The dinner is nice, food is great and lots of wonderful French red wine. Yet I can not see or feel any of that because I realise that I am in love with Reiner.

I am sitting in the dining room and replaying again and again in my head what happened yesterday. And with every minute it seems more and more beautiful, even divine, our one night stand had turned into a magic ritual, the arcane thunder after which nothing is the same anymore. I remember his very thin body, his face in the dark, some words that he said. The apotheosis of our night is the phrase he said: “My mother is growing lilies”. My mother is growing lilies, I am repeating to myself. My mother is growing lilies. My mother is growing lilies. Somehow this phrase has absorbed all the tenderness, all the silence between us, there is an absolute completeness in it what can happen between a man an a woman. It is the ultimate place where all the boundaries between people are finally gone. I have the feeling that the embassy is going to explode. I can not stay any more minute in the world where his mother is growing lilies, it is so unbearably, even painfully beautiful that I mumble something incomprehensible in French and leave the room.