Invisible Wall

The sun was shy that morning, barely slipping between the

heavy clouds that weighed on the city. G, wrapped in her usual coat, walked

through the almost deserted streets. She had decided to return to the gallery

where she had seen the blurred painting, convinced that this place held

something important, although she did not know what.

For his part, B was also wandering, but in a different

direction. Unlike G, he had no precise destination. His steps took him where

his mind could wander freely, far from the memories that assailed him at every

moment of immobility.

Parallel trajectories

G arrived at the gallery. Through the glass, the painting

looked different than the day before, as if the colors had faded, become less

vibrant under the gray light of day. She entered, taking the time to observe

every detail.

She stopped in front of the canvas. A strange feeling

came over her, as if this painting was speaking to her, whispering things she

couldn't hear clearly. The blurred contours of the landscape evoked buried

memories, emotions she had ignored for too long.

Meanwhile, B found himself in a park, the one where G had

sat the day before. He sat down on the same bench, the wood cold under his

hands. He looked at the empty fountain, the bare trees, and felt a curious

familiarity with this place that he didn't remember having visited.

Thoughts locked away

The painting, for G, became a mirror. The abstract shapes

reflected her own state of mind, a mixture of hope and disillusionment. She

wondered if she was chasing a chimera, if this man she had met was nothing more

than a reflection of her loneliness.

For B, the park acted as a catalyst. As he sat there, he

saw fragments of his past: a loving voice, bursts of laughter, and that sudden

moment when everything had collapsed. These memories formed an invisible wall

that he could not break through, a wall that he had reinforced over the years,

stone by stone.

A crack in the wall

The afternoon wore on, and G left the gallery, feeling

slightly dizzy from the intensity of her thoughts. She resumed her walk, along

familiar streets that, however, seemed foreign to her.

In an alley, she stopped short. On the ground, shards of

glass glistened in the light, forming a kaleidoscope of colors. It reminded her

of the painting, but also of something older, more personal: a memory from her

childhood, when she had accidentally broken a window in her home.

This banal event had provoked a disproportionate anger in

her parents, leaving her with a feeling of guilt that she had never forgotten.

This memory awakened a buried emotion, a desire to free herself from this

invisible weight.

B, for his part, felt a similar impulse as he left the

park. For the first time in a long time, he felt the need to act, to break out

of his torpor. He didn't yet know how or why, but he sensed that this moment

was crucial.

The meeting prevented

Their paths grew closer without them knowing it. G walked

slowly, while B took a parallel street. They were separated by only a few

meters and a dilapidated building.

G stopped in front of a dusty display case, captivated by

an antique object displayed inside. An old pocket watch, worn but elegant,

seemed to tell a story. She placed her hand on the glass, as if to connect with

this object laden with mystery.

Across the building, B stopped in front of a street

stall. A traveling bookseller was selling second-hand books, spread out on a

rickety table. He picked up a book at random, his fingers skimming the yellowed

pages.

The invisible wall was more present than ever, separating

their worlds while imperceptibly bringing them closer together.

Shared wounds

Evening was falling, and G returned home, carrying with

her a sense of incompleteness. She sat down in front of her notebook, but this

time she didn't try to write. She stood there, staring at the blank page,

wondering what she was really waiting for.

B, at home, took out an old notebook that he hadn't

opened for years. He found fragments of writing in it, thoughts that he had

once scribbled down in an attempt to free himself from his past.

In parallel, their gestures seemed to respond to each

other: G touching the cover of his notebook, B turning a yellowed page. They

were two separate souls, but united by a similar pain, each locked behind his

own invisible wall.

A fragile hope

As night enveloped the city, G took one last look out her

window. The street lights flickered, casting shifting shadows on the walls. She

felt a slight shiver, but it wasn't cold.

B, meanwhile, got up to turn off the light. Just before

going to bed, he put the notebook on his bedside table, a silent promise he

would try to keep: that of not running away from his memories this time.