I can picture a beautiful woman wearing red lipstick. She's using fancy adjectives to decorate her delicate satin words when she's talking about him. Because no ordinary description would suit him. No ordinary social manner would be enough to comfort even the thought of him. He's so handsome, he could make untouched naive young girls cry. Hence, she's so graceful when she talks about him. Choosing gentle words has always been her forte anyway. Sometimes she finds herself singing;
"Je ne manque a personne
Mais ce n'est pas grave
J'ai deja passe un bon moment
Un bon moment autrefois"
Then this song reminds her of Veinte Anos as sung by Omara Portuondo. She hesitates about leaving all the loving she had a thing of the past. Nothing can be repeated. Nothing will be repeated. But I know she wants to be thought dearly of. Once again.
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