Thought of a Second Polish Philosopher

Only candles know the secret of dying slowly. One Hundred Twelve

Natalie entered the room where she was used to sleeping. She moved forward by the light of the candles but would very well have been able to make her way through the dark because of how well she knew the slightest nook or cranny in this room. She guided Markus, who was following her, holding her by the hips. It was the most radiant darkness of his life. He was afraid that his joy would become so intense that he’d lose all of his know-how. It’s not unusual for an excess of excitement to incapacitate. He mustn’t think about it, must just let himself be carried along by each second. Each breath of air a world. Natalie placed the candles on the bedside table. They met each other face to face in the poignant motion of the shadows.She put her head on his shoulder, he caressed her hair. They could have stayed that way. It was like sleeping standing up. But he was so cold. It was also the cold of absence; no one came here anymore. It was like a place that needed to be reconquered, where memory needed to be added to memory. They lay down under the covers. Markus kept caressing Natalie’s hair untiringly. He loved it so much, he wanted to know it strand by strand, understand the history and thought of each. He wanted to take a voyage in her hair. It was his sensitivity, his care not to rush the situation that made Natalie feel good. Even so, he was proactive. Currently he was undressing her, and his heart was beating with a strange force.She was naked now, pressed against him. The emotions he felt were so powerful that his movements slowed. A slowness that almost took the form of a retreat. He was letting immense apprehension eat away at him, was beginning to muddle it. She loved these moments when he was clumsy, when he hesitated. She understood that she’d wanted that more than anything, to rediscover men through a man who was not at all a frequenter of women. So that together they could rediscover the handbook of affection. There was something restful about being with him. Perhaps it was arrogant or shallow to say so, but it seemed to her that this man would always be happy to be with her. She had the feeling that their relationship as a couple would enjoy extreme stability. That nothing could happen. That their physical equation was an antidote to death. All of it she thought in snatches, without being very certain. She only knew that this was the moment, and that in such situations it’s always the body that decides. He was on top of her now. She clung to him tightly.Tears ran down her temples. He kissed her tears.And from her tears others were born as well; his, this time. One Hundred Thirteen

Дата добавления: 2015-10-26