Vezi bioritmul tau de astazi


BioritmBioritm

marți, 7 februarie 2012

A rocking chair from a chilly room of an old mansion ...

Weird day today. Started in the morning with an old, beautiful song sang by a God-gone singer… Afterwards … Well, as the stars said the word for today, I made an impression. On someone. Another one. Again. “High-frequency buzz can be overwhelming to someone else”…
And some wisdom gathered from people who lived enough to know and can tell that life is worth every breath, every second, every sight and that every beautiful image should be absorbed like air. They were on the edge. Maybe they saw beyond and lived to tell that we should not take life for granted…
She got... home tired, lost, frozen. The weather got worst than she ever seen. In this country only for few weeks and she already hates it. Her beloved joys on this freezing cold are hot stuff: hot teas, hot chocolate, hot wine with cinnamon (the landlord offered her a mug of that tasty liquor in the first freezing night, it was the first time she drank such thing) and long-hot showers. Another hot stuff that came into her mind was a man but she dropped that though; too heavy, too expensive, too complicated and too simple at once. Right now loneliness was a great companion. She had her thoughts; she escapes in her dreams where happiness is a perpetual state of spirit. And her long hot showers. She rushed from work sooner than usual, yesterday she couldn’t find bread and she eat butter on fingers. This evening she had great plans: get home, hot shower, warm bathrobe, hot tea, toasted bread with butter and honey, her thick blanket and the greatest book – a story told by Death it self – “When Death says a story you must listen”. And there she is, having her great time.
She got to the stairs, trying not to make noise. He heard her. He always hears her. Her steps are so firm. He opened the door and invited her over a big cup of wine with cinnamon. She had to turn down his offer, her tea was more tempting.
She got … home. No one but the cool air and semi-darkness waiting for her. She had no intention of turning on the lights but … she had to. Without wasting time taking her shoes off she went straight to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. She knew she had to wait at least ten minutes to get the hot water running. She found a bite of the dark chocolate on the kitchen table. She left it there in the morning exactly for this moment. Took of her clothes… but while taking her coat off she saw his eyes. In there, out there, in the semi-darkness. And he was taking her clothes of… He loves the way her coat smells. No particular perfume, it just smells … like her. There goes the thick sweater, thrown on the rocking chair. The silky red blouse was unbuttoned and the skirt’s zipper was unzipped. The winter boots freed her feet, she sat down and quickly, gently massaged her toes. The sound of water running was so tempting. The pink, thick bathrobe was hugging her. The bathroom was steamy and warm. And the water was hot and desired. His eyes ware still there, accompanying her every step, watching her every move, feeling her every thought and hearing her every breath. And enjoying her smile. The water was now caressing her every inch of skin, calming down every thread of her dark soft hair and running down the closed dark eyes. Her thoughts were wild like the blow of the wind outside. He was watching her in the shower, she felt his look and called him under the water. He said no and she continued enjoying her time under the hot steams. She knows her self inch-by-inch but yet discovers every time the softness of her skin. Her hands are looking for something and yet nothing, just wondering around, filled with foam smelling like musk and Damask rose. She arches her back in the sexiest movement, just for his eyes, letting the hot water washing away the aromatic foam while her elbows are touching the cold blue wall tile. Letting her head on the back, water runs free like wild mustangs on her neck, down her chest, caressing her breasts, washing the arms that embrace and hold, her thighs, her legs…Drops of water like million kisses and she loves it all. She puts her arms around her in an embrace and she sees the whirlpool on the drain. She sees there all her troubles and sadness and misfortune, going down the drain, never to rise again. She closes her eyes and smiles. His eyes are still there watching…With both hands above her head like in surrender, she looks opened like a flower in bloom. And she is wet and hot… from to much thoughts and hot water and his eyes… The foot on the cold floor tile brings her to reality. She remembers there is boiling water waiting for her to make the tea and she hurries to the kitchen, grabbing her pink thick bathrobe on wet skin.

Outside the wind stopped from intensity. Inside, she is all nestled in her rocking chair, covered by the light blue blanket, with her hot lavender tea in the hands and the book held close to the chest. Her mind is far-far away, out on the window and off to his eyes. Those eyes that looked at her as to a marvel of God, wondering where have they seen her before? In what life? In what circumstances? Those eyes that connected a face to the words said and felt in love like for the first time. Worst than the first time, different and more powerful than ever …And she felt asleep, rocked like in a baby cradle, thinking about those eyes …Alone, in a rocking chair from a chilly room of an old mansion in a country never visited before and from where she can’t wait to leave…