TINK OF ME!

He crouched behind me and I included waist with one arm. It is set in a way that every member of mine was on the body of his place to sit and rest, my every curve of the concavity found its forms, each "hill" of us found its valley. Any tension, any reluctance that melted the protective embrace and could not be anything more wonderful! I knew and savor those moments, feeling the pleasure that burst into me like a warm, golden light, slipping from beneath my skin is quite extensive and through every pore. And consolations of ... Well, I did consolations of good! So warm and radiant was his hand, that when passed over my skin, I felt a subtle frisson electric thrill. Returning again and again, with his hand over his shoulders, waist, thighs over, slow, unhurried, as if gradually covered me with a blanket soft and warm ... Lord, how well I was! All my cells vibrating with happiness, and I still stroking it with his hands and eyes glowing magic, I think I would have turned slightly in everything he wanted to be: a songbird, a violin, săgetând a blade of grass to the sun, foliage rustling birch waved in the wind. The passion grew as water coming growing, swallowing us whole until, soothe, they floated adrift, his eyes fixed in the firmament of heaven, with a smile on his lips softly ... Was it happiness? Now I say yes! Enjoying caresses me, just lying, lying next to him, not a cup, but as an amphora full of kisses and touches ambrosia, overwhelmed by feelings that they waited so long and now I'm flooded, unexpected and balmy, as the old cure for suffering, venomous betrayals and expectations for too long. After a while gently pulling me towards him, without telling me anything, just twisting toward me, catching me by the shoulder with one hand and looking me in the eye, to know that I have to trust that It will be fine. Then I lay face in the crook of his shoulder and then his chest. I closed my eyes and I could hear my heart pounding rhythm of a song, much taller and more clear, as I fell asleep with a smile in his mouth and a raised eyebrow to wonder, to dream: "How does he know to caress it? "I wondered, fretting and happy. Perhaps life on the mountain missions to the limit resistance, sleeping in the open with only rucksack at the end, with his hand grasping sharp splinter of rock, taught to touch it; or maybe the way he comforted the children when they were little, far away and alienated from him. Or how, shy exceedingly in his youth years, and can not speak words of love, love wrote their hands, taking possession, slowly and patiently, lovers of old bodies; or perhaps his memories about childhood home, now forgotten and abandoned about face wine cellar and grandfather honey from a bee who learned to caress on the head, with fingertips, without fear of her needle. When I put a hand on his forehead, my eyes lit up as if I would have gone a veil from his eyes. When I put the other hand on his chest as flood my lungs and breathe air so deeply, as if, at that moment, I would have raised a muddy water, the swimmer holding my breath.

I thought I'd be good at caressed her back with the measure that you have time to be grateful that his hands did, alone, where to go and how to touch me, because I will fill myself with the cupped hand the outline of his body hot and good. I did not get it! Or that time has not come ...

Our meetings were consumed without too many words. As usual, if it was a matter of interest, I'm

trying to express my view pertinent one, citing as far as possible, all sources of my form, but I transform a shy monosyllabic when it was about myself, about my life mediocre. He listened to me and blinked slowly, like a wise cat, talking and less and, if you în¬trebam something, answered by "yes" or "negative." That amused me, but I and intrigue, as if you and I together in a secret mission, as he walked, sometimes at the end of the country where he lived. Last time we met, I thought we promised that next time I will tell you everything you feel when you touch me, I'm charmed by his caresses, that are in his power forever. He promised to come in mid-May when the jasmine blossom. He had to go on a mission so secret, away, on a battlefront stranger, but no one knew when and where. "You have to know the way back?" I asked, and he told me he has a mysterious compass, compass of the heart: "The compass that always takes you where you leave your heart!", He said He left.

We parted at the station. I was about to climb into the car when I heard shouting from the other platform: "Think of me tonight! I'm sure I'll think of you! "

I boarded the train smiling, always liked this dramatic breakup, sprinkled with a dash of mystery, madness, even incipient romance.

I listened, I thought of him that night, and then in the evening that followed and even now as I write. For he gave me for a few moments, trust, peace, made me realize that I have to live for myself, not for others. "The happiness of others is not yours, do not represent their happiness will not make you happy." After all, you did not even have to try to thank those around, "how do you know exactly what they want, why you take decisions for them?"

He taught me that you can not control anything in this world, that life often takes you on some dark paths just because ultimately the right way to appreciate the sunrise and be grateful for every moment of your life sad or happy.

From him I know now that evening before going to sleep, you have to remember all the things that we've done over the day and that we should not be ashamed to any. Even if they do best works ever made, even though I was sad, I sighed and I have broken plates or friends. Regardless, however, of how much I've suffered in a day, a time will surely find even one that has lasted a second, when I smiled. And the second must remember before I sleep, because it means I still have not lost, they can be at peace with myself, that my life has a purpose, even I do not know.

Perhaps things are not so random as we like to think, maybe people in the way they appear just when we most need them. Or maybe naturalness playing tricks on us from time to time, causing us to stumble by an amateur philosopher not only to tell us all truths to hide them even from ourselves.

I do not know if I'll ever see, but I know that I will never forget that afternoon early spring, I stayed both on the grass in the courtyard of a castle from a forgotten French village, we shared an apple and a hug, we opened our souls, we laughed life and found answers.

photo credit: google.com

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