Michael Eriksson
A Swede in Germany
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My angel eyes

I was visited by a ghost from the past today.

I knew a French girl once. A face of impossible beauty. An accent that made my knees crumple. She stole my heart, and gave nothing in return. I let her slip away, too much a coward to ask for what she did not offer.

She was on my mind for years.

Today the memory of her visited me again. The questions that haunt all lovers lost overcame me:

Had she returned my feelings? Could she have been “the one”? Would we still be together? What had she been doing? Was she married? Happy?

There were no answers on the Internet. Just a firm she ran.

And a picture...

And now I understand what you meant with “Angel Eyes”, Mr. Cole.

Try to think
That loves not around
Still it’s uncomfortably near
My old heart
Ain’t gainin’ no ground
Because my angel eyes ain’t here


Originally, the above was an add-on to the below, preceded by the following introduction

Because this is a bit of an experimental page, I will make a second experiment and try to write the above [read “below”] as if I were someone else. Note that where there is a difference in potential interpretation, the above [read “below”] is the “canonical” version, the below [read “above”] can contain “artistic over-simplification” and “artistic exaggeration”. Further, I am uncertain whether the term “lovers lost” actually applies (besides being a cliche), but it seems to fit reasonably in the text.

However, I very strongly suspected that anyone who was interested in reading the above would be bored to tears after the first two paragraphs of my original text. Consequently, I reversed the order—with the possible shock value in mind, as an extra bonus.

The original text

Most pages here sofar (2009-05-15) have been focused on facts, opinions, reasoning on this that, or similar. Partly, this reflects my nature, both with regard to my interests and my relative unemotionality; partly, I have deliberately chosen to not go into the many texts and insights I have on my own person, development, whatnot—at least for now.


A formulation based on “unemotional” does not quite catch what I am looking for—I have even shed the occasional tear over an unusally sad or happy event in a movie or TV series. The point is rather that I tend to look at issues with reason, not emotion; am seldom moved emotionally by events in my own life (excepting, obviously, a lack of patience with incompetence); rarely become emotionally invested; etc. “Strongly un-overemotional” would possibly be a better description.

However, today was one of the rare occasions where I did manage to get myself highly emotional, and this might be a good opportunity to give a bit of contrast to the rest of the website:

Somewhere around 1999–2000, I worked with a young French woman. For most of this time I had a crush on her: She was a bit overweight, but she also had one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen—not just movie star beautiful, but on par with the likes of Olivia Hussey. (At least in my eyes: The distorting effect an infatuation can have is well know.) Add in the French accent...

Alas, as with almost all women I had a crush on in my youth, I was too cowardly to ever do something about it. She left the company possibly a year after I joined it. I ran into her once or twice after that, but left for an employer in another town, myself, in 2001. I have not seen her since. However, for several years she regularly appeared in my thoughts. Even today, possibly nine years since she left, my mind sometimes drifts back to her—often with a yearning. (Likely a result of her never being my girl-friend, in combination with the prolonged crush: For one thing, I lack closure; for another, actual girl-friends tend to make me disillusioned comparatively fast, something that did not happen with her. The time that has passed since has likely served to improve my image of her further—although the infatuation itself is long gone.)

Today the little mademoiselle crossed my mind, and in an attack of curiosity, I decided to google her: What I found was a website for a one-woman marketing firm she ran. The over-reliance on JavaScript and incompatibility with Opera, my browser of choice, made me shudder. Then I ran across a picture...

The next half-hour gave me a much more thorough understanding of what Nat King Cole was singing about in “Angel Eyes”. (Cf. http://www.wicn.org/song-week/angel-eyes-1947e, although this version of the lyrics seems to deviate a bit from the recorded version I have.)

After that I bounced back. I may, however, be at one those point where I need to find a new girl-friend—going to long without at least a brief adventure tends to leave me unnecessarily melancholic and self-pitying. Women are a bit like vegetables: I would rather do without (at least in some regards), but have to admit that abstaining can be unhealthy.