A country song plays on the radio, the easy melody gives the scene a relaxed atmosphere and filters into my head. The smell of Starbucks coffee probably lingers in the air but by now I’ve stayed here so long my nose has become impervious to it. The inane chatter of my friends next to me flows past me – a slow stream that I can easily jump into at any given time.
A heavily made up woman sits on the other side of the room. Her red painted lips and eyes that are heavily made up in kohl gleam like they have been covered with lacquer. The powdery finish of her stark white face is faintly illuminated by the blue light of the computer in front of her that she stares at avidly – lost in whatever work she is engaged in.
Beyond the beat of the music you can hear the typing of keyboards and the carefree chatter of friends.
But though the cafe where we sit is illuminated in the warm yellow glow of assorted lamps and small ceiling lights, from where the blinds are slightly drawn I can see the outside street where it is now dark. People walk past and signs for business glow bright. But the sight is obscured by our own bright mirror images in the window. From where we are in the light the people walking past in the dark are hardly visible. From where we are we can barely see them – faint shapes hidden by reflections of ourselves.
But those in the dark can see us so easily. They can see the warm yellow light and they can see the laughter and enjoyment of the family sitting near us, the father jovially hitting his wife on her back, his eyes sparkling with adoration. But they just walk on. They walk on, shrouded in the dark, watching the people inside, while those in the cafe keep laughing. Enjoying their food and conversation oblivious to those outside.
sûr une étoile 