“If you ever get close to a human,” sang Björk, “be ready, be ready to get confused. ” (Human Behaviour, Debut, 1993). You may have experienced or instigated a “sorry we’re getting close, please show me the way out” situation before.
[i] Sorry, we’re close. Way out?
It happened to me after a game of “SB, please don’t reject me.” I hid clues in plain sight. Soon enough, I noticed the scramble for a way out. But I kept calm and pointed to the door.
You see, my plan all along was to convert the vanishing points into refined sugar. In the spirit of the game, I first looked longingly at the kiwi fruit panna cotta.
[ii] Kiwi fruit panna cotta
While trying to make up my mind, I ordered an affogato. If you’ve never tried it, I should warn you, the middle section is a double espresso and will keep you awake for exactly 72 hours. (I have already stopped drinking coffee.)
[iii] Affogato, tiramisu and raspberry/cranberry panna cotta
A cranberry with raspberry panna cotta and tiramisu completed the set. My dessert is gluten free but I did not forget you, my biscuit eating friends.
That biscuit did not waffle. Please devour slowly with your eyes. The sugar crystals in the dessert salute your excess.
[v] Bon appétit!
Have a yummy xoxoxoxo bonbon time!
My back is pressed up against a wall, as always, with her. She keeps me at arm’s length, the way you would a prisoner who refuses to be set free.
The wall is comforting. Solid and whole, it offers security. I tilt my head backwards to grab more of it.
I do not ignore the fullness of her left hand covering my heart. I record the sensation for a few more seconds. Millimetres separate us. A strand of her hair looms into view. My right eye X rays the cuticle. My soul camps out on it.
She leans forward to adjust the strap of her sandal. I know I should use my right hand to steady her elbow. But I am feeling so loved up right now, I can only manage to close my eyes.
The Wall x SB
Story 3 from Countess Roja and Havana, circa 1992
Photo credit: Bed head by Quinn Dombrowski via Wylio/Flickr
August 22, AD 79 Matutinus
Days before I turn to dust
I embrace heaven in the doorway
and thrust arms wide to touch the frame
August 23, AD 79 Meridies
Rumbles drill; they ring closer still
My part in it, I know not force
Am poet, philosopher and lector, scribe
One day you’ll see … that …
August 24, AD 79 Opacare
Wide rules I use for rhyme and verse
My mind is adrift; once blessed, now cursed
Black days are rumbling
(I’m not the first; their chronicles live in rhyme and verse)
Heaven intones in one flash burst
across the way from Stabiae
Photo credit: “I.12.5 Pompeii. 1959. Entrance doorway” by Stanley A Jashemski
Silk, in moon grey, billowed softly in the afternoon breeze. “Go ahead and pretend I do not exist,” read her challenge. The message was not written on the fabric. Rather, it draped her attitude.
Her sculpted form muted the sound clouds sent up by the gathering. She smiled coyly and entered the pavilion. The hem of her dress was swept up by a helpful minion. Perfect lips – they were glossed in a tint of vermillion. How they parted, mouthing thoughts, spiking words with opinion. Moments later, I found myself hovering above celestial ponds.
“Read my eyes; welcome me …”
Out of nowhere, a big voice staunched the rush of blood from my brain. “Welcome, my dear, and may we start this reunion?” She moved in a self conscious way, like a lonely dancer at centre stage.
“… and take heed, for I’m one in a million. Drink my poison. Drink this potion. Drink it slowly. Drink me. Drink.”
Needless to say, I was parched. I choked down my insecurities. When she held my gaze, I sprouted wings. Then I waited to take my shot in the limelight. I reached for my first day of life.
Countess Roja x SB
Story 2 of Havana, circa 1992
Photo credit: Venice Carnival, 2017 via European Best Cities
Trinidad sat under a beautiful, vivid, green bower and inhaled. The astringent aroma of tobacco wafted up from the burning fields. His blood ran cold as he watched Roja’s hair change shape with the slow determination of a sniper. Ringlets curled in the air, as did the behemoth that glared at him from her thousand yard stare. He was firmly caught in her line of sight.
His hand reached out as if to phone a friend. A glass of brandy answered the call. The bitter liquid burned his throat. The drink fused with a myriad of grievances he was dying to get off his chest.
He remembered that day when she’d held his hand. Her gilded talons etched, in his palm, a secret map to one thousand nights of dissipated terror. Later, that evening, when he fell back in his chair, he had not seen it coming.
Blinded by infatuated bliss, he heaved his chest upwards to accept her commandment: “Submit.” It was spoken to him firmly, through pressure from the sole of her right foot.
And now, he would submit to her, one last time, under the vivid, green bower. This time, he signed his name with a flourish and a deep breath, knowing he would inhabit freedom on the exhale.
Havana, circa 1992
SB x HBhatnagar
Hello all, I whipped together some fiction using my contributions to hbhatnagar‘s Two Phrase Story Challenge. Thank you, HB. (Both photographs are mine). It turns out they were not so random thoughts and I was able to craft a complete story from them. Join in the fun at HB’s. I hope to read yours soon! xoxo
[i] Closed for breakfast.
[ii] Closed for lunch.
Closed doors tell me that if I turn around, I can start over right there.
[i] Welcome to Joe’s…
[ii] Handmade sofa spotted in an antique store/coffee shop.
[iii] Upstairs. This seat is occupied.
[iv] Look at the floor.
Enjoy this weekend in your favourite hideouts.
Ready? Set > Incensed
Swim oceans of defence
Lord watch my feet
In spinner race
I stretch that charm
then kick this H8
until there’s land
until I am
right where you wait
there taking stock
on Winners’ Block
Swim (to Winners’ Block)
It’s always a pleasure to enjoy the stillness and reflect. I find that simple things fill my life with wonder.
After yesterday’s bruhaha, this post needs notes. This is a soft, elusive and graceful bump of concrete protruding from a wall. It was mesmerising, and photographing it was a welcome meditation. Until… I looked up and noticed that a small group of tourists had taken seats on the sidewalk across the street to silently cheer me on.
After a deep, post migraine slumber that lasted the better part of two straight days, it was time to take a walk. For that, I drove to the bay.
Reflection. He was really sweet and paused every time I asked him.
Paddles by morning rowers on the bay.
Waters. A heavy colour filter added juice to a blue morning.
Medium long shot.
I wilted after two hours of captures, so I walked a few metres past that photo above and greeted myself with an orange mocha frappuccino at the Bay Area Starbucks.
Denim on wood, indoors.
I adore wood floors.
Yellow door, just outside.
oOO Thank you xxoxxo