He had a Russian blue, sitting aristocratically and cold on a white sofa. Don’t get too close. It’s not too friendly. Does it have a name? It might have. It never seems to answer to any name. So practically it does not have any. And then he left the room quietly. Maurice…vient ici. The cat turned its head slowly. Ca alors… tu t’appelles Maurice. It moved its pointed ears few times, and then jumped off the sofa and came to her feet. Je sais. Tu m’attendais… The cat looked at her strangely. Its eyes changed their color from blue to green smoothly. Tes yeux… ta façon d’approcher c’est un peu inquiétant. Dazzled almost forgotten images burst like a volcano. Recalling again all those strange sensations. Sounds rolled down the white walls And all the roads… and all the lights... I don’t know how. A soft dense fog I don't belong here. The music kept playing over and over. The cat kept starring with its blue turning to green eyes. She saw cat’s jaw moving and heard it whispering il t’attend… She startled and felt her heart pounding. The snow falling down with darkness smelled like jasmine. He was standing near the window holding the cup of tea. You fell asleep. Photo:
http://www.pacificspirit.org/news/uploaded_images/Streets-paved-with-gold-734414.jpg
