Diary of a mad young man - December 24th 2011. At Argels-sur-Mer.

No, I'm not the most attractive and talented man in these times. Already, I'm not the most beautiful man in this wagon. There is another man, beautiful and maybe confident. He has a sort of rustic beauty (I can talk on the beauty of men not because I love men but because I'm a man myself, and there are beauty models I like to imitate). Four days burnt-blond beard and piercings lend him a sort of wild looks. All the while he's dressed with a semi-formal jacket in gray. Elegance without need for much money. He's almost the opposite of posh, but might be qualified as dandy. I certainly have never tried to dress like that .

Yet judging people on their physiognomy and their fashion has already played bad tricks on me. Misrepresentations, prejudice and wrong expectations. I betted on the wrong horses.

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The Beauty of Women. My mother is a divine woman. Remembering her existence makes me feel loved. Unfortunately we have communication problems (as with many other beautiful women who've been close to me). As for the rest, young women will be old, but old women were young. So when picking my next loved object, I figure that the actual beauty that counts is the inner one. In front if me, an arab girl. I wouldn't qualify her as pretty. But she isn't ugly either. Next to me a beautiful young girl, studying medicine. Damn, people move so much in this world. Auburn hair, like one of my exes. *** ***

The End. La imagen con la que me quiero quedar de Navidad: el hombre hermoso se baja en Argelssur-Mer y se abalanzan sobre l dos chicas. Abrazo de hermanas, abrazo y grito de amigas. Recepcion efusiva, de prncipe. No hubo beso, por lo que intuyo que eran amigas o hermanas (tal vez lo ltimo: no es Noche Buena? Pero la amistad puede ser tan cercana, unir a dos previos desconocidos y volverlos hermanos de alma). Sea lo que sea: fue lindo. Me encantara tener esas amigas. S lo que hay que hacer: dejar de ser amenazador. Reconciliarme con mi sexo.

-IVISOL-