it all started with very long, blonde hair found in the public toilets this Friday.
As all you smart people should carefully do, I was thoroughly washing my hands, post-pee. This being a healthy habit. The pee stuff too.
While there, I caught the sight of a looooooong, straight and fine blonde hair hanging down my shoulder. It actually took me a long time to realize what it was, and the awe of finding this par of a blonde human being on me was, by my word, terrific.
It looked surreal, intimate, and awfully... alien (you will have figured out I'm a brunette). Curiosity. The miracle of THE difference. The forensic evidence THE OTHER exists. The wonder of a world in one hair.
I briefly studied it (seemed obscene to do it more) and weighed the length and golden density on its owner-ess (the noun itself must be bursting with blondness) - then came to the quiet conclusion it must be a heavy, luminous, lush mane - beautiful random person who peed there before.
That being assesed, I went back to my routine.
Till night, when skeletons sneaked out of the 6 doored cerebral closet.
I was in a foreign place, and was smelling the stench of manness around. Was doing rural chores, preparing for something lead by an older woman, feeling cheeky and feverish with anticipation. Things got, as they usually do, incoherent. Lots of boys and men passed by in the flow of happenings. The only constant that I held onto was this Certain Boy. Cool, standard, a heart-breaker, awfully fit and strong, with something of an Italian warmth to him - that made him as trustworthy and emotionally dependable as a tender granny (yes, you can always lean on grannies).
hug me hug me deeply you fool
hug me till it hurts, this stupid foreplay in slow-motion in perfume and rags
i'm not there, i can pull the strings of blood from inside,
hear my shriek drunken
in the shyness of a lost age.
ahem.
But some strange logics (the same that never let you take off for good when you feel like coming neither hit the bottom of the well when you fall) took him away constantly. Then drove him back for a few seconds, for painful seconds of sightings, burning eye contact, slight touching and feeling the rough hotness of his skin. You know that helplessness in between worlds; when you're aware the fraking next second
it's all void, except for the furious missing missing missing of the Certain boy. Trying to catch on, to fool your own dream into obeying. Coaxing your dream into resolution. A least a second more...
I remember at a point, in between the folds of a corridor, he took me and pulled me down and opened my shirt to unveil my breasts. ***Shift*** At that moment, lucidity, a forgotten complex hit in, i drew back to play him off, dissimulate the attention towars something else, grinned and purred and bitten hard.
The next moment, I'm in a long dress taking a tray to an indoor feast.
I know that there's something more to me. I feel it in my bowels, in the way I play with gravity. In the corner of my eye, the vesperal breeze threw puffs of sun-dried dust, throwing heaps of my golden hair forward into the horizon, announcing my arrival. I walk my long legs, full hips and blooming breasts in the dying sun and I feel power. I know I'm another being, almost like only then was I one. I see myself from within. My intelligence tells me I'm royal. I don't need my exploratory antennas anymore: I can rest, I can rest on the golden gigantic wings of my looks...
There's nothing more secure, passive and desirable then a blonde godess. My intelligence tells me to flow, elaborately navigating the tendrils of male desire, let the gazes flood me furtively or brutally until I sense nothing else, am numb, am numb in my blazing power.
Beauty. A world lacking doubt, dissimulation, all that mimicry that builds on uncertain souls.
Free of the whimsy knitted on the laboured soul which once decided is ugly enough. And has since been on the watch relentlessly.
I am blondness. In the archetypal sense, like saying I am Aphrodite. A calm proud sea.
All desire, I deserve it.
Some second later, the Certain boy passes by, takes me a big chunk of me into his eyes, we conspire...
Somewhere in the immensity, something is breaking loose, all men flee drawn towards their destruction, they go back towards a geological convulsion that wil eat them alive with rust. A very huge manly duty is being consumed at a long distance, beyond the walls of this petty world where I am glowing.
I saw he caught a glimpse of me, hunger mirrored in sweat - came close and spoke something nameless and Left.
There's nothing left of me, not a shred of hair, not the sepia shine of ancient queens, nor the long veils or the organs they clad, the body is gone - colours and pigments dissolved.
Knowing in that moment I would never see him again in this dream, and therefore never again in the terrifying eternity of this reality supplemented by infinite other dreams.
And then it all died.
All during the weekend I missed him, though I never knew his face. Like whipping a whole life in the electricity of the air.
I still do. Miss him. After 2 days. Something is still lacking. Went beyond brunette or blonde skinny or voluptuous, and found the true pain of loss, nakedly nude of all appearance.
Beyond any woman sits a trembling bunny, dictating in her shadows.
Dream or reality?
Lonvingly yours,
Madame Loulou
I have a feeling it was something that had to do with the inconspicuous fact that I had adopted the plants of a particularly handsome and warm and unattainable colleague.
