One year ago, I ran out of my house, in high heels. I was late, as usual. I missed the bus. I was late. I started watching for a cab. No cabs. But a familiar face in a car passing by. EMILIAAAAA. Here I am, in her car, smiling to her parents. We're late.
Everybody's already here. Apart from Josef maybe, but that's not a surprise. Everybody's here and it seems like a normal day. But it's our day. And we can afford being silly, smiling too much, teasing each other. Yeah, we're grown-ups in caps and gowns. We're done. We did it. We're done and only a happy few know where they will be the week after. But jealousy can wait.
Cameras flashing everywhere. We're the stars today. We're gonna change this world, make your news, make you smile, make you dance, make you scream, make you cry in front of your TV. You're gonna read us on your way to work, stuck between an old Chinese lady and a huge bouncer, in the subway. You will look for the bylines, envy the reporter who spent one week at the Moulin Rouge just to give you the scoop. We will be brave for you. We will be merciless for you. We'll fight, we'll call, re-call, ask, re-ask, insist, just to give you the little extra.
But for now, we're taking one more picture, one more smile. My TV class is the best. There's no doubt for me. I can't help thinking that, for our instructors, it's just one more class. But, come on, aren't we special, aren't we the funniest, the wit, the ugly, the cool?
I don't look at pictures that much.The ones that count are in my thoughts and in my emails. One year. It seems like childhood.