By now, A. was able to watch the reality from any different point of view, and to live time in any way.Actually, that embrace was just a Math vector towards the girl, it brushed her like an ellipse, not even touching her.
So he could smell her body, her skin, and then the pleats – whatever behind them – her whisper, that soft puff coming from the nostrils, the blinking eyelashes, the warm breath.
Her pouting lips, as wet as her feet on the sea line. The salted skin, carefully touched by the sea, caressed right there, along the legs, they too wet.
“We are like numbers: always to be in a game, ‘cose that’s what Math is !” – he said, and it seemed to him a new rule, discovered long time ago by Arabic people. Al- ghebra.
They had also longly watched each other, for even two or three seconds: his usually busy mind, at that moment, had one only thought. So he watched her again, smiling as you can do when you meet a dear friend, a left mother, a lost lover. A wife.
“We had been assigned each other for ever” A. said ”forever” he said again.
She smiled, assented and dropped her head softly, tilted on side, so he could see something: her electric blue tattoos. Her face was actually surrounded by floral pictures, maybe even tribal, ancestral. Through her look he could see love, sweetness, but also pride, strength, and vitality.
They stayed together on the beach, talking each other. The sea was beginning to raise upwards the inlet, getting its room. It was not really an usual sea, because colder then other ones. Waves were stronger, faster, even more violent when they were back to the dark side. She was called Zephira.
“I belong to old people, coming from so far, driving small boats through this big sea they called Ocean. “ In the meantime a soft wind – who knows where coming from - was ruffling her hair.
He realized they had been knowing each other for ever, she was such a fulfilled wish to him, an eternal possibility finally become real, a presence with neither start nor – possibly- end.
“This is not our last meeting, we’ll lost and meet again, because more path has to be covered.”
A. was not listening her talking about her ancestors, their habits, he couldn’t take literally the meaning: he rather was overcoming that, taking the words sound, how lips were stretching and folding, and then the hands. They rotated, drew pictures, close and open again, finally found his ones.
So she got up and started moving rhythmically, it was such a spiral dance, the arms driven by the wind – from which she got her own name – like playing a musical instrument, so that he really could hear a far melody.
Then A. got up too. He started rotating together with her and they both were sketching large circles on the beach, like clock wheels carrying on the mechanism.
Suddenly the music changed, A. moved on side taking more free space, his legs were now at right angle, right where she had drew some pictures while was talking.
She was talking, then, calling for old ceremonies, heavy energies, sounds from wooden drums, shields and so high flames, taking to the sky light parts and old, futile thoughts.
A big white cloud covered the sky.
“We had been assigned each other for ever” A. said ”forever” he said again.
She smiled, assented and dropped her head softly, tilted on side, so he could see something: her electric blue tattoos. Her face was actually surrounded by floral pictures, maybe even tribal, ancestral. Through her look he could see love, sweetness, but also pride, strength, and vitality.
They stayed together on the beach, talking each other. The sea was beginning to raise upwards the inlet, getting its room. It was not really an usual sea, because colder then other ones. Waves were stronger, faster, even more violent when they were back to the dark side. She was called Zephira.
“I belong to old people, coming from so far, driving small boats through this big sea they called Ocean. “ In the meantime a soft wind – who knows where coming from - was ruffling her hair.
He realized they had been knowing each other for ever, she was such a fulfilled wish to him, an eternal possibility finally become real, a presence with neither start nor – possibly- end.
“This is not our last meeting, we’ll lost and meet again, because more path has to be covered.”
A. was not listening her talking about her ancestors, their habits, he couldn’t take literally the meaning: he rather was overcoming that, taking the words sound, how lips were stretching and folding, and then the hands. They rotated, drew pictures, close and open again, finally found his ones.
So she got up and started moving rhythmically, it was such a spiral dance, the arms driven by the wind – from which she got her own name – like playing a musical instrument, so that he really could hear a far melody.
Then A. got up too. He started rotating together with her and they both were sketching large circles on the beach, like clock wheels carrying on the mechanism.
Suddenly the music changed, A. moved on side taking more free space, his legs were now at right angle, right where she had drew some pictures while was talking.
She was talking, then, calling for old ceremonies, heavy energies, sounds from wooden drums, shields and so high flames, taking to the sky light parts and old, futile thoughts.
A big white cloud covered the sky.
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