Google+ Followers

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Part 4: After Leonie left (from the series My Lovely Ghosts)

After Leonie left, none of them was truly happy. Not in the way they used to be. When their heart beats stopped almost every minute because they were so exhilarated that it felt impossible to breathe. When the fairies tickled their noses and sprinkled splashes of milk on their naked bodies. There wasn’t that kind of happiness when they were apart.
Leonie went to Paris. She spent days fascinated by every single crack hole she had found and by the metro passengers. She loved the feeling to be able to stare at people and carefully examine their features, creased clothes, dirt on their shoes and the secrets behind or above their eyes. Metro was probably the only place where people could be strangers and anonymous together.
Leonie was daunted by the idea of holding other peoples’ hands. To her holding hands was something precious almost sacred. Leonie could recognize Georgie’s hands with her eyes closed. The way his fingers moved, the gentle almost unnoticeable caress of his thumb. His hands led her through frozen mountains covered in silk and the skies with dancing books and forgotten music. She missed him awfully yet she wasn’t ready to come back to him.
Leonie met Ferdinand during the cold lonely night when she was looking at Seine searching for diamonds. They say that you can find diamonds during the night when the moon shines and the diamonds glitter underneath. She had found Ferdinand instead of diamonds. He was lying on the cold ground staring at the sky thinking about his last performance. He blamed himself for not being good enough, for not being able to become the character, to stop being Ferdinand. Leonie asked him if he was looking for diamonds too but he said he didn’t want any diamonds. He was scared to death by possessing anything. Every night before he went to sleep he threw away his clothes, never kept them longer than a day. His flat was entirely empty, there was a big mattress on the floor with a pillow and blanket and Ferdinand kept it only because it wasn’t his. It was there before. He didn’t want to posses anything though he wanted to occupy the entire space. Normally he introduced himself by entering the room. Ferdinand was filling up the spaces with something extraordinary yet exasperating. People looked and listen to him; they craved for his company because of the stupidest desires. Ferdinand was very persuasive and genuinely believed he could control the wind. Leonie was fascinated and amused by him having everything and nothing in the most unbalanced way. Every time she woke up he was lying on her, covering her dreaming and wandering body, holding her tight so she wouldn’t leave. She founded it almost adorable. She liked when he was undressing her with his eyes, she could sense his desire on every place of her body. Ferdinand loved and talked with his body. Leonie talked through her eyes that reflected the thoughts and feelings of us, lonely travellers.  
One day Leonie woke up and felt different, the coffee suddenly tasted like melted poppies and the porridge made her fly. She was supposed to go to the circus with Ferdinand but instead she just walked and walked until she got to a coffee bar. The smell of an old furniture and ginger led her to the cafe. Sometimes you just have to walk and walk in order to live, Georgie used to say. The cafe was crowded; people were standing around the table where a man sat holding the tarot cards. His hair was grey but his eyes were filled with a new born cry. He smelled like eaten oranges and untold secrets. People were writing their names on pieces of paper so the reader would pick the lucky one to read the cards. Leonie didn’t write her name down, she just wanted to watch and listen to his voice. The reader picked a paper open it and looked at Leonie. The whole cafe let her pass and get to the table. She sat down confused and somehow happy. When her cards were on the table, the reader talked to her in silence. He said her heart was incomplete, beating like a broken melody of an old violinist. He also said that it was all fine. That the sky knew when to cry and that the clouds looked the same when you knew where to look. After all the heart is vast canvas with everlasting blossom.










No comments: