Tuesday, 27 January 2009

A : bit : of : my : writing

The Eiffel Tower looms above, solid yet humble as a structure. It's grid like structure reflects a similarity to the complex nature of one's own mind, intricate in detail and overwhelming in design, but ultimately when looked at a little closer, simple in its being and uniqness.

I stand directly under its metal rafters, my feet wavering slightly on the cold bronze marker point, as I gaze up and inhale its vastness. As I stand, I close my eyes holding them tightly together, like the clasp of lovers lips. I imagine, I dream, my mind saunters along a path cobbled with romance, gravelled with lovers, yet remains untrodden, as I remain once again, alone. I make a wish, but now is not the time to reveal such wistful desires, in fear that they may not come true.

I draw myself away from this spot, purchasing a scalding cafe ou lait from a nearby venders cart, laiden with warm cinamon sticks for the little ones & roasted chestnuts for thr big ones little at heart.

The art of people watching is to allow one's self to detach from personal dilemas & issues, allowing instead the eyes to encourage the imagination.

I burn my lips on the edge of the small polystyrene cup, & innocently & unkowingly allow a small tear of milky coffee explore the crevase between lip & chin. My lack of concnetrayion is the result of a glimpse of a young couple embracing, at the very spot upon which I had previously lost all sense & allowed my heart to wish for a future path.

He holds her hand lovingly but knowingly, he is aware of her beauty and is equally aware of the wandering gaze of others. His hand upon hers reminds her of his love and warns others of its eternal nature.

Darkened bristles protrude from his chin & graze his scarlet scarf as he draws his eyes from his lover to gaze upon the now familiar landmark of love. She watchs him, she is young and inquisiticve in nature, As she appreciates her new found love a sudden rush of passion overtakes her body, as she lightly raises her ankles, balletic in form, remaining almost on point to kiss his cheek.

As I watch my mind is allowed to expand on their situation. As they walk home he will buy a glowing cup of mulled wine to comfort his bones from the icey weather, she will sip from it to show her maturity but will refrain from a second tasting due to her definite dislike of the steaming purple broth.

They will walk home together, he will step out of his usually demur character and encourage her to dance with him along the edge of the river. Although illuminated the walk way is in no need of light as the couples deepening love for each other grows with every step and is clear & bright for everyone to see.

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