Ha, yes. The younger man beside him curtly replied. It was Gabriel. He had been looking up at the replica painting of Dali at the train station in Perpignan. His train had been delayed for 40 minutes and he found himself in the middle of the hall, realizing it’s been a long time since he paid any attention to it. Almost in a trance, he had not noticed someone else was beside him. He glanced at him then and saw that he was dressed eccentrically, with a very particular mustache that reminded him of someone. Dali, of course. He looked up again, not in the mood to make conversations. He needed this train to be on time.
The old man looked at the same thing he was looking at and after some time said: So do you believe in it?
In what? Gabriel asked. He noticed that he had an english accent.
That this could be the center of the Universe! He held his arms wide open, his voice louder than before. At this moment, a couple of bystanders stopped and looked at them, then went about their way.
This made Gabriel laugh. I welcome the idea but it’s hard to believe it’s true. I think Dali got carried away…
Not a fan of surrealist art, I suppose?
I actually like it. I like Dali, he takes you somewhere. I prefer his other paintings… though this one has some special significance. He said while looking up.
Well, if you want to see some originals, there happens to be a special exhibit at the Dali House. It’s part of the Surreal Art Festival. They have the original Persistence of Memory exhibited right now. Lots of people.
In Cadaques, right? Gabriel asked, trying to sound interested than he really was.
Right, he answered. Here, look, he pulled out a brochure from his pouch bag. He turned the pages looking for the one mentioning Dali’s exhibit.
Gabriel obliged even though he knew he really doesn’t care to see this exhibit right now. He had other very important things to do. But for the sake of being polite, he looked on. Until something caught his eye. Wait, he said, abruptly placing his hand on the current page.
Can I? He took the brochure and looked at an image closely. He quickly read something on the page and then looked up, brushing away a thought.
Do you know that artist? The old man asked.
For a moment, I thought it could be someone I know, but the name doesn’t add up. And she’s not an artist. Gabriel said. I thought I recognize one of these photos though, pointing at one of the images.
Well, you should see her anyway, her exhibit is quite interesting. Deep and mysterious. He suggested, almost forcefully.
It would be nice but I don’t have the time, I need to be back in Paris tonight. He closed the brochure and gave it back to him. Thank you. He looked at his watch.
Up to you. I’m an art critic by the way and what I saw so far had been wonderful. It’s worth to pass by if you’re already here.
Sounds great but maybe next time. He decidedly answered but something about what the old man said reminded him of something.
Alright…well, I hope you make it on time, wherever you’re going. The old man turned his back and started to slowly walk away.
Wait…this girl , is she Eurasian by the way? Olive skin, long black hair…Gabriel asked even if he was unsure. He had to ask.
With the big radiant smile? That’s your girl! The old man replied, donning a wide smile himself.
Is she … can I have the brochure again? Gabriel took it without waiting for his answer and found the page again. He squinted his eyes on one of the photos. This time, his eyes lit up. It’s her.
Oh yeah? You say it like she’s from your past life. The old man said.
Well, you could say that. He said, smiling. His mind ran as he looked at the brochure in his hand then at the old man.
Well, here. I’ll decide for you. The old man said. Take that and this ticket too. I was supposed to stay until tomorrow, but my lover calls In Paris. He winked.
Are you sure?! But he already took the ticket. Thanks a lot. He said as he made his way towards the ticket machine.
You won’t regret it! The old man called out loudly from behind him.