Any attempt at an explanation of beauty would only come up short. But what is beauty if it's not in the attempt at understanding something ? Beauty is abundant in this small space, the six inches between your face and mine. And as he struggles with his diction he finds that words almost become superfluous. Our tools and our language hinder any emotional honesty we hope to find. And she smiles back at him, knowing they are both individuals with their own personal subtexts and histories. But everything matters in this small short moment, the exact time of day, this beautiful city you find yourself a guest in, the minute - like the ground beneath your feet and the warm light that falls upon her face illuminating it in a candescent glow. The minutes in his world merge for that short amount of time. And there is beauty, a deep personal beauty that sustains and leaves a mark. Their words overlap one another as if they know that this real, all-encompassing connection has an expiry date and they race to get their explanations out in a dizzying haze of words and laughs and knowing silences. As they embrace they realize that their pasts and futures are bound by one line alone: To remember someone is to be very happy or very sad.
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Tonight I have been romanced by life. She teases the world to me and I can't help but follow her. A mix of Etta James, Billie Holiday and Nina Simone is playing in my room as I am writing all of this. Lost in between the lines of verse and song I listen to her voice till' early morn.
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