A Simple Woman and Me

She was actually simple, a woman, simple, she just loved the best, simply... her common look was enchanted with all beauty... a brilliant splendid, a eternal diamond... Of the music she loved the splendid sound of classics, from the french light waltzes... From poetry, all superb verses of love... The feeling of velvet, the touch of pure silk. The haute couture, or that it was a simple pret a porter it made her glow... all in the saint simplicity and nobility... the french cuisine appreciated with praise. cheese and chocolate Swiss surely, german white wine tasted with fervor... imported fragrances, persian rugs, italian shoes, simple things had the tour over greek island to enchantment to her... all normal and simple as the holidays in Caribbean beaches...fly in the jet planes to have lunch in New York, return to dinner in Paris, have a drink in Milan... All simple because she was very simple, so simple and normal as I was supposed to walk in a crowded bus, in a fetid train, Dinner a set meal in the Bar Dirty Foot... or when I drink a sophisticated Kool-aid with a slice of cake at John's Bar... Everything for her, simple, only, as it must be for me too simple, only...!