Amber evening

amber_metallic_texture_ii_by_beckas So, we were quietly eating our ice-creams. He opened the door for me and I stepped into the car. Such a gentleman, I thought, and immediately dismissed the thought; it was serious but ironic at the same time. Men don’t do that with other men, unless there’s a hidden language of domination. He joined me in the car shortly after. As he went to the other side of the car, ice-cream in hand, his body left a trace of light over the evening sky. The sun was trying to run away from him, and as he crossed my field of vision I suddenly felt so alone as if a great danger was about to sweep me away from the face of the Earth throwing me into this pitch dark abyss. He finally got in. The silence and the solitude broke for a few seconds and the rest of the world came all over me as the door opened and closed with a thump. Then the world perished again. The sun drew cruel shadows over his complexion as if trying to make him ugly, telling me to look away. Look for love into some other place except this one, the world outside was telling me trying to get in, knocking against the windows of the car. He was truly the most beautiful man that I had ever seen, and he was so close now, moving around me with the silence of the planets circling around the sun. And there was a thump, and a click, and the sound of a deep breath, and there was perfume, and air, and the sound of clothes, and the sun between us painfully piercing the pores of my face. You are so beautiful, he says, and I say nothing. I can hear the ice-cream melting in my hand. I swallow and my mouth feels dry. Thanks, I say, and at once the world outside starts moving, and the car, and the shadows on his face outlining a sort of battle, and seconds seem like hours as he gets closer and closer to me, and I don’t move, fearing that my movement would make dust attack me, and take me away from him. And I can feel his breath now; I can feel it on my upper lip. I feel like grabbing him and pulling him closer but I’m still afraid of movement. But I stand here frozen while his lips touched mine. Dolce e deciso. And suddenly the solitude vanished and now a void opened, greater, bigger. It was the fear of losing him. And our lips parted.

But the silence kept talking through us like kids trying to talk to each other through a wall. I could only hear his breath and my thumping heart. What shall we do? He said. You are so beautiful, I told him. We finished our ice-creams. The world kept talking and moving around us as if nothing had happened, like rain washing over the warm ash of a camp fire. We are after all two bodies. Flesh plus bone plus desire, and as I looked outside through the dark windows of the car the world stopped making sense. The sidewalks had no reason to be where they were, the trees were too silent for that time of the year, the people had only two feet, two hands, and a pair of eyes, and the sun, I have never seen something uglier and crueler than the sun. Yet HE was here beside me. I felt his hand as he was trying to find mine and the open void settled down, stopped screaming, like a baby being fed. And the world made sense again, and again, and the trees started talking. You are so beautiful I told him, and he said he believed me. And I believed him.

And I don’t hate you, I hate the world. That is why every time I take a shower I feel like there’s a lot of dirt on my skin that I need to clean, take down. Somewhere, something, someone planted this seed into the depths of my body and up until now it has grown into this huge tree that manages to hide me from the sun.

Tu sei il sole della mia vita. Non so cosa farei senza di te.

Every time you say that something breaks inside me. And I want to hear it again. And you say no, no more, imagine all the other people in this world that need a word of affection and don’t get it, or they won’t get it in the near future. Let’s not waste our words of affection. These words are like water, or like food, they need to be preserved. So we stay silent for a while because our vocabulary is filled with words of affection and now you realize you’ve just said too many, and maybe there is nothing else left to say but “I adore you” and “I wouldn’t want to lose you”.

The world is so strange today, you say, why don’t they just marry and get it over with. That’s what I always thought when I was little, why write books about lost love, or sing songs about them when you could just marry them and be together for the rest of your life. But as you stare at the ceiling you begin to see it more clearly. The ceiling is a place of revelation, where thoughts meet and form ideas. Things are not that simple, you see, marriage wouldn’t be the solution, I mean, it couldn’t be the ultimate solution, marriages fail sometimes, things get nasty, you need to divide things. Marriage would be the failure of everything, of love itself. And you laugh heartily. What a stupid thing to say. We won’t get married, love, right?


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