I believe I can fly said the man with his closed eyes when the sun flooded his rough and sensitive face with shiny rays of warm nature. It was like a dream, immortal, pious, pure to sit naturally and enjoy the while that was passing its minutes and hours. Tic tac, beat after beat in his kind chest made by gods and wives of princes standing upright in each and every book collected in the world wide libraries, in different cultures and cities to visit. He was lonely, didn’t want to roll a tear, what for? he was asking himself, to remember, to forget, to forgive the way he had left behind, was there anything to add?
A woman, carried by flowers enchanting its scents, was walking down the street. Apparently, she was smiling inside, almost going to explode, she uttered to herself: I am being loved for the way I am, lead me then somewhere further in order to melt the horizon, my curing hands are touching your chest, my lips are kissing your hair, I am all yours. Eternal closiness as the sun goes up, it is still not the noon...and they awaited in embracement the spark to be born, it came suddenly with its hands closing their eyes, opening their mouths full of honey sticky mixture burning the smooth skin of her; stomach, round arms waving irresistably as one kiss after another made her madly jealous it wasn’t her lips. He was breathing her perfumes, the token of womanhood, the mist, she was mysterious, unique at the moment he saw her face; now kissing her back like a china in his hands, a gentle man, going down deep her to reach out the surface in the corridor of inner beauty mixed with sensitivity, violence, disaster, joy she was engaged to while telling a joke, while making love, while pretending to be observer, was she eventually? What for? she was asking herself, to survive, to create, to witness exclusive moments of united forces of spontainous love, moaning with excitement as his face turned into her own. Basically, the lonely walls were falling down ascribed to them both since some time...
The immediate playground was living its own life, vital, cheerful, donated by children’s laughing, running to and fro like aeroplanes crushing its spread wings into silence of another ordinary day. Being an innocent kid while getting old, being an eldery lady while ten months’ old, the twins raised they hands up covered with some golden sand, they sat and stared at legs going to disappear around the corner, black high heels at first, then sandals presenting its charm in a sporty way, shaggy knees, uneven toes which pointed four directions, North, South, East, West piece of people’s soul. I believe I can fly said the boy and picked up his toy...
\'I Believe I can Fly\' is another short story of mine I wrote approximately in 2001/2002. Somehow, it may be a sort of referrence to a person I used to be friends with for 2 years unfortunately life circumstances set up apart. A reminiscence is partly alive by now. And I do think there is a kid\'s soul in all of us. Laura, thanks for ur kind words about me, not sure I deserve them..Whatever moves me I tend to jot it down although it is a drop in the ocean of thoughts... Do u have anything else to share up in this poetic corner? ;) Cheers Cornflake_Alice