ORANGE SANDALWOOD

ORANGE SANDALWOOD
Showing posts with label Distance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Distance. Show all posts

7/28/2014

LA SOMBRA O LA VIDA (BREATHLESS PROSE # 7)




La sombra o la vida, mi señora, esto es un asalto, le advierto que no estoy yo para bromas, y si usted colabora nadie tiene que salir herido, oh señora mía, luz de donde el sol la toma, o por lo menos la solía tomar... yo le pido, le ruego, que me entregue su sombra, así por las buenas, sin resistir, le suplico, total si usted ya no la usa para nada, y piense que para mí tener la compañía de su sombra sería maravilloso, milady, dése usted cuenta de que en su sombra adivino yo todo aquello que amé en usted (y todavía amo, y siempre amaré), y que consiste precisamente en todo aquello que usted insistió en olvidar meticulosamente sobre usted misma, más tarde, cuando decidió prescindir violentamente de las cosas que deseaba, de las cosas que amaba, y así todas esas bellezas le fueron huyendo del alma y se almacenaron en su sombra, una sombra que usted arrastra por costumbre y porque qué va hacer con ella, pero yo creo que la odia en el fondo, ya ve, usted se pone a odiar precisamente aquello que yo más amo en el mundo ¿no es extraño?, una sombra lindísima y triste, tan triste y bella que, la verdad, viendolas juntas a ustedes dos bajo el sol de primavera, parecería más que es usted la que se arrastra pegada a la tierra y su sombra flota etérea sin llegar a tocar el suelo, o sea, resumiendo, algo así como si usted no fuese ni una sombra de lo que fue un dia, oh mi bella señora, y perdoneme la franqueza, pero en fin, divagaba, lo que quería decir es que usted ya ni se fija en su sombra y a veces hasta parece que ni se acuerda de ella, milady, y esa es la razón de este asalto, demela por favor, usted jamás la mira, ni piensa en ella, porque decidió así con esa vehemencia tan suya de usted no mirar nunca para atrás, así que una vez más le digo, démela sin más, no me obligue a robarsela a punta de pistola, lo que sería una escena fea e innecesaria, entienda de una vez que yo a su sombra de usted la quiero para que me ayude a  recordar, para permitir que sea la sombra la que proyecte todo lo que usted podría haber sido si hubiese querido serlo, así como la vida es proyectada desde nuestra propia luz y nuestro deseo y nuestra voluntad de imaginarla, así sea, no sé si me va entendiendo, señora que lo fue de mis sueños y de mis vigilias, que quede claro que yo a su sombra la quiero para abrazarla en mis noches turbias de pánicos domésticos, para los días sin sol, y para subir certas cuestas que se me hacen tan difíciles desde que usted decidió desaparecerse, prohibirse, exiliarse de sí misma, y dejarme con esta cara superlativa de idiota pensando, intentando conjurar cómo eran sus ojos, o la danza de sus manos, o la temperatura exacta de su voz, o ese desasosiego tan báltico de su corazón, o el arrebol que su rostro vestía al escuchar ciertas palabras mías, y bueno, por todo eso se me ocurrió depositar toda mi confianza en esta idea de que su sombra me traerá esas cosas de nuevo, de algún modo, así que permitame de una vez que le quite ese peso de encima, si hasta le estoy haciendo un favor,  si hasta va a acabar por agradecermelo, ande, dejeme bailar con su sombra, con su alma fugaz de estrellas y azules durante toda la eternidad, amén, he dicho.


Sándalo Naranja

1/13/2013

METAPHOSAURUS - Microrelato (Say it in less than 100 words)






The Lord of the marsh… Such an imposing frame! A fireless dragon of sorts… Limbs like sequoias on the waters, jaws a peaceful garden of weeds.

What a noisy beast, walking on this primal earth!

Mum Triceratops: “You wake up my baby again, and I'll disembowel you, with my own horns!

Your dream: being a discreet beast... but HOW?

DNA: the instructions that turned you into that massive monster..."Grow...!".

Your brain… By a neck, you lost the evolution game.

In your grave, your dream replays the final meteorite rain, your puzzled skeleton, the tale of our dawn.






10/25/2012

WE SHOULD BE GOING NOW (II)





Desde este navío de piedra inerte
varado en el centro de su empeño,
libero las amarras de mi ensueño
de algas ya olvidadas por la muerte.

En su proa tan vencida se divierte
una luz azul zigzagueada,
sempiterna cautiva en su mirada!

Balsa amiga, istmo de sal y piedra
que bien cumplió su singladura!
Reposa ahora el perfil de tu figura
bajel herido que el desdén arredra




10/23/2012

WE SHOULD BE GOING NOW (I)




Yesterday I walked on sands... today, I hit the green hills, and I find the silence has changed, too... Instead paying attention to that loathsome vacuum,I come out of myself for a while, and I hear all sorts of friendly silences: the falling leaves,far away bells, 
the water hitting the stone, the flutter of the duck's wings... and then I realize that everything, even the eternal, has a time to be.



10/20/2012

TUDO O SENTIMENTO



Preciso não dormir
Até se consumar
O tempo da gente.
Preciso conduzir
Um tempo de te amar,
Te amando devagar e urgentemente.
Pretendo descobrir
No último momento
Um tempo que refaz o que desfez,
Que recolhe todo sentimento
E bota no corpo uma outra vez.




Prometo te querer
Até o amor cair
Doente, doente...
Prefiro, então, partir
A tempo de poder
A gente se desvencilhar da gente.
Depois de te perder,
Te encontro, com certeza,
Talvez num tempo da delicadeza,
Onde não diremos nada;
Nada aconteceu.
Apenas seguirei
Como encantado ao lado teu.



Chico Buarque/Cristovão Bastos



NOS HORIZONTES DO MUNDO







Nos movimentos do mundo
Cada um tem seu momento
Todos têm um pensamento
De vencer a solidão
E quem pensar um minuto
Saberá tudo dos ventos
E se tiver sentimento
Estenderá sua mão
Nos movimentos do mundo
Quem não teve um sofrimento
E não guardou na lembrança
Os restos de uma paixão
Coração recolha tudo
Essas coisas são do mundo
Só não guarde mais o medo
De viver a vida, não



Nos movimentos do mundo
Requerer perdas e danos
É abrigar desenganos
Sem amor e sem perdão
Nos horizontes do mundo
Não haverá movimento
Se o botão do sentimento
Não abrir no coração


10/14/2012

HAPPINESS WAS A CHINESE MEAL




And, you know, at the end
Happiness was a chinese meal
served by an ugly man,
wearing a thick moustache,
who could not be called Lu
under any circumstance,
I mean the man, not the moustache,
and the crisscrossing of car paths, as well,
and the last-minute calls, between
the frustration of facing your empty chair
and the almost unbearable joy
of knowing you were finally coming,
and a prawn chop-suey
that came too late for me
and too early for you,
and needed to be sent back
to that unimaginable kitchen
(to be kept warm),
just as I sent forward my love
to your unimaginable heart
(for pretty much the same reason!),
and you finally came and saved
my rapidly sinking heart
and made my life unbearably happy
just by being here when I least expected,
as I watched you eating 
your overcooked prawns
with a glorious smile, scorted only
by dragons and pandas and chinese lanterns,
in a time when milenary Great Walls
had not yet being invented










10/12/2012

RENDEZ-VOUS À TROIS



Three chairs made of stone, facing the ocean. Sitting on two of them, a woman and a man. They face the ocean, too. While they talk, they barely look at each other. The ocean listens everything they have to say to each other. 


From the outside, they would appear as complete strangers, both surrounded by their own personal bubble of time and space.


Yet, their coincidence is not... well... coincidental, so to speak. It is the result of a carefully planned rendez-vous. The bubble, just one, envelops both of them in a communion of sortilèges... Like the sounds coming from a seashore battered by unfatigable waves.


Today, she is wearing a glowing-white dress, that sits magically well on her body. "She looks as if she had come out from a dream", he thinks, wondering about her. Is she really real? Human beings never impressed him the way this woman does.


The man had arrived earlier. He did not know what to do with his time prior to the meeting. These hours were not really his: they already belonged to her. He is nervous. She noticed that as soon as he saw him on the bench, and smiled to herself. For him, the thrill of having her around is always a radical experience, even after all these months.


But the man arrived earlier, too, because he would not miss the moment of her arrival for anything in the world. It is been too long a strecht of time since the last time they met. Stupidly long.




He watches her coming from afar, a distant pier. She walks at a cruise speed, always constant, unhurried, very characteristic. The man can perceive the air around her being displaced with her elegant, regular cadence. The way she moves is the single most wondrous thing he will enjoy in his life, no matter how long and rich it may be.


There is something in her walk as if she were not going anywhere in special. She smiles nonchalantly. While watching her approach, his time stops as usual. Whatever he may have been thinking one minute before, it is gone, forever. He is still, deeply focused in the glowing-white of her figure, "a true angel", barely smiling at her. His whole being completely taken hostage by a beauty he has learnt to expect and delight on, but he will never apprehend or understand fully.


As she gets near, he can distinguish the contour of the glorious smile in her face. Radiant like a sunday, yet serene. She seems genuinely happy to see him. Lovely and fresh as a sunshine, awe-inspiring as a sunset. He fell on her orbit a long time ago, and has no plans to get out of it. He is delighted, confused. He is used to it. Fighting that would be as pointless as revolting against an angry ocean.


The man stands, walks towards her, exchange cheek kisses and helloes, just as friends would. They are in a public place. She sits down, crossing her alarmingly beautiful legs with natural, adorable, subdued modesty. Meanwhile, he, standing still, watches her figure unashamedly. He tries to take in all her beauties in small sips, without hurrying, also without pausing. 


Little by little, the paralizying effect gives way to a steady current of affection that warms his heart. Maybe hers, too. He cannot know for sure.



She keeps silent, wearing her lovely smile, patiently allowing the man to adjust his meters and gauges to her presence. No more words flow immediately, but this is allright. He is looking at her face now, to her blue eyes. He looks into them, slightly more time than it would be necessary, and she keeps her silent glance on him, without any sign of uneasiness. 

She knows he is drinking her blue, taking the daily dose that he has missed for too many weeks. "Let the guy replenish his levels", she seems to be thinking, amused and a bit touched, while smiling lovely to him.


"It's strange, you see? Yesterday I though I could not remember your voice anymore... It's been too long... yet, your eyes I could picture them easily, even with my own eyes closed". She laughs almost silently, opening her lips as if she were to talk, and closing her eyes.


She is flattered, she blushes. Not by his words only: she feels deeply in her spine his attitude of adoration towards her. Watching again her, blushing like this, takes the man to a moment and place where he felt a boundless happiness.


"How have you been?", she asks, looking again to him.


"Oh well, the unanswerable question again", he thinks, laughing, but only half-amused. "I keep going, thanks, you know...", he says finally.


So they are, side to side, both looking at the waves. It feels to him like a rendez-vous à trois. The ocean is the only other lover he will ever have. "...You know well how happy you make me, just by coming here. Thank you".


She does not even answer to that. She hates intros. "...it feels wonderful and weird at the same time...", he continues. And he is saying the truth, nothing but the truth. In his long, solitary walks, he has searched for her impossible company, he has weaved a thousand monologues to her, in his mind. If written, they would make several books she could read for months.




"What I mean is, hum,  all this time, I have not stopped for a second thinking in you, talking to you in my mind... I know it sounds crazy, but to me, it seems impossible that all of this may have been lost...without record".


She nods, as if facing a challenge, and protests: "Hey, but it was not lost... I was listening, somehow... and I read the messages you sent to me...". She looks a triffle uneasy, all traces of her former smile are gone from her beautiful face (but, justice be made, she is beautiful when she is serious, too).


"I did not mean it as a complaint, dear... I have past the complaining phase, and I am willing to move on. I just have'nt figured out where and how". 


He says this looking briefly to her right profile. He is astonished at what he sees. The blue of her eyes blends so perfectly with the ocean, all-in-one, and he thinks how unlikely will be to watch something so wonderful again, if she is ever gone. She has everything to make him whole until the end of times. Awed by the sheer beauty, he thinks "Why talking about anything at all, really?".


"I really read all your messages you sent to me this summer... You made me laugh sometimes, and I needed that. And you kept me company... Thanks", she says, although she hates everytime she feels forced to say something.

"You are welcome... Believe me, writing helped me, too, to forget the distance and the silence...You know what is the weirdest to me? It does not make sense I love you so much, I have so much good to give you, and I have so little time to do it... live... It does not make sense... And then, I waste a good part of that little time we have together talking about this relationship, instead of developing it... It is absurd, don't you think?... You know I love writing to you, but I should tell you how being with you is becoming essential to me. Even without talking, just being, you understand?".


Now she looks at him, sideways while he stares at the blue eye of the ocean. "I don't know... Absurd or not, it is what it is... We have our own duties, and you know well how hard it is some days to find time for ourselves, not to mention time to be together...".


"Yes, you are so right... I am just stating what I would love, so you know it. Reality tends to be boring, unless we spice it up with some wish...".


She looks intently at him. "I thought you prefered light and easy... I thought we had agreed on that...". She says that with a humorous undertone, knowing that things in reality are never so black and white.


"Yes, exactly! Light & Easy, the old classic, of course! You are so right!". They laugh together, whole-heartedly. They are in a place beyond words, now.


"...But you know, while we are laughing, I should tell you that I would be the Lightest and Easiest guy in the world if you just happened to love me a little". She listens to his words, digesting them. "Have'nt you noticed that? Whenever you have shown love to me, I glow... my words caress you...". He stops. She is still looking affectionately to him. "Hey, I don't imply you should love me. I just point to the fact that any lover becomes more generous and less needy (less focused in himself, hence lighter and easy), when the other lover feeds him with her own love. It is just natural..."


Again, the old talk. The feedback thing. This guy is as relentless as the ocean waves. Nevertheless, she seems very amused. "Wow! That was a long phrase! Relax, take a breath, man, watch your heart!". Then, serious again, she says: "I cannot say if I love you now, or if I will... I just don't know, and I cannot lie".


"I know, I know... And yes, I don't want you to lie to me, no matter how much I would rejoyce while listening certain words from this sexy-pretty lips of yours".


Laughs, complicity. Sometimes, the smoking-hot prelude to something they could have called "intimacy", or so he thinks at least. But how to know for sure? 


Sometimes, her spelling of words that have the power to change the world, and then again, "I must go, it is getting late", and tomorrow the same words will not be repeated, so they quite never get to build a nest for that stranded love to grow.


The man and the woman stay there for some more time. She knows too well what is going on in the man's heart. He does not have a clue, really, about what goes on in hers. Some days, total darkness. Some other days, a handful of hopeful rays of blue light. And so he goes on.


We will stop here our indiscreet dialogue transcript. Enough to say that they keep talking, and the time spent together is for the man so much more than a rendez-vous...! A tilt, an eternal song singing within his soul, anchoring him forever-and-ever to the radiant woman on his side.


Hours before, at home, while listening to a song, one among many hundreds that has been indelibly stamped on his soul by her sheer existence, he realized: "There is no end for us, really"


And now, with her so near, and so distant, the thought has  something of a perverse, funeral flavour inside. 


Later, when he goes to bed at night, this relationship will seem fictional to him, almost a script he played in his mind and his heart, with a sparse, possibly irreal counterpoint beautifully sang by an angel dressed in glowing white.









10/10/2012

NEIGE/NEU



NEIGE

Pas neige, fleurs de ciel
Mon coeur que tu t'efeuilles

Feuillets de ma vie dechirés
Petite pluie de papier blanc

Pas neige, fleurs de ciel
Douleur que tu t'efeuilles
Ah! Quelle tristresse il fait
Ah! Quelle tristesse il fait.





NEU


No és neu, són flors de cel.
Cor meu com te desfulles.
Són fulls de ma vida esquinçats.
Plugeta de paper blanc


No és neu, són flors de cel
Dolor, com te desfulles
¡Ai! Quina tristesa fa..

¡Ai! quina tristesa fa...






Palabras de Frederic Mompou. Trad. francesa de Mathilde Pomès

10/07/2012

GRIEF BY NUMBERS




 
 
As soon as you were gone
I started counting,
for I expected two would come exactly
at the end of one, or so it should,

but the maths in this garden of mine,
oh my, were such an unreliable thing

I might as well expect
horizons to be horizontal, but
that damn thorn
was meticulously tearing apart 
every plan,
every calculation




The darkest came sooner,
the sweeter never came,
and over this river, nothing 
but the winter's blackest rain

Such a pity all these calculations 
in my garden,
all these variables and constants,
that I sketched with the outmost care...


Really, nobody would ever imagine
how much love can go
into the simplest equation








10/04/2012

REGRESSO NA DISTÂNCIA À TUA FIGURA




Depois de me sonhar nos teus abraços
regresso na distância à tua figura
em trânsfuga cadencia, à procura
do fulgor fugidio nos teus passos

Sem a dança curvilínea dos teus braços,
e o coral incêndio azul do teu olhar,
o que faria o meu peito latejar?

Pois não sendo a tua graça mais minha
do que este ar turvo que respiro,
nesta alma o meu anelo aninha
de um dia ser, eu, o ar do teu suspiro.


10/03/2012

THE MIRROR INSIDE



E poderás reconhecer-te, se lembrares
os turvos caudais do já sonhado,
as lágrimas curvas como meridianos,
derramadas sobre lençóis sem nome,
as areias alegres onde amaste,
ondulante amante de olhos fixos no mar

Hoje caminhas sobre a pele do dia,
os olhos tão abertos,
enchendo o céu dos teus azuis

De toda a memória,
a tua, a minha
apenas vale esse dom luzidio
de construir o nosso caminho de hoje
com o pó dos nossos sonhos e estrelas








10/01/2012

THE UNDYING LOVE (DRAFTS, UNSENT - OBLIVION FOLDER)




Words, words, so many of them,
buried alive on the drafts limbo
and other nowhere lands,
so tired of dying a million tiny deaths

Who could read now the spells

of your wrinkled, agonizying souls?

Misplaced, soulless sketches

of nothing, shadows or embers or flames
diseased words, damaged
at birth, exhausted messengers who must die

Words, sleeping the seamless dream

of nothingness,
some so irreversibly ill, or patiently
degrading under the adverse rain of time gone

All of them, papers who gladly would have

offered their dusty paper life
to sing your forever song, to burn
in the glorious bonfire of your love

Numbed ink, voiceless stains

unsent drafts, the forgotten, the forever-lost,
those aborted on the grounds
of being plain stupid, witless
uninspired, undeserving

All of them broken, misshapen

misspelt mismatched misguided,
mediocre, poor, half-dead already
before being born

And yet, all of them in a row,


revealing with unconfessable,


alarming precision


my stubborn,


              undying


                        love


(And the rest, thereafter,

will be silence, if it must)



6/02/2012

PACO - CALLE REAL




Paco. I just played the play button, and the emotion flooded my inner house, without asking. it happened just the same way many years ago, when I opened the door, and the whole Andalucia entered my house, filled it forever. Soon after he settled in his new room, the house was thriving with misterious cooking aromas, flamenco music, improvisation, surprise, Art.



I never met a man so manly. I mean that there was a completeness in the way he conducted himself. So theatrical, he could be serious and change to a clown in a matter of seconds. But I don't want to describe him today. Whatever he knew, he had learnt it through his senses. Nothing in the world was really out of his realm. Everything interested him, he grabbed everything knowable or lovable between his hands, without asking first.



Today, a piece of music, made of rage and honey and white horses, a song he used to sing, grabs my throat by surprise. Tears start flowing as soon as I recognize the first notes. 
He ceased to be when I was not with him. i did not even know that he was ill. All I received was a telex from his boyfriend, and later a letter from him and a painting he made in his last bed. 

A window, of course, the window of his hospital room, for me to look away long after his eyes have dissapeared of this world. 

For going so soon, maybe I am only forgiving him today.




5/29/2012

DR. KRUGGER AT THE GARDEN OF DELIGHTS






Dr. Krugger glances absently at the menu, without really looking. He wants noddles, and nothing else, but the chinese waitress has another plan. She always has. Looking intently into the doctor's eyes, she diagnoses:


- Nooddles, no no no, Sil... The coloul of youl colnea say youl system is lacking on calcium and fibel, Sil... May I leccomend anothel thing, Sil?


She is quite attractive, although some self-imposed neutrality in her deamenor takes away some of her potential splendor. While examining Krugger's cornea, she sounded both doctoral and playful.

Dr. Krugger knows her, and likes her way. She has that particular blend of nutritional knowledge and typical asian modesty the doctor finds intoxicately erotic. He has been here a number of times. Lately, almost every lunch and dinner. Not that he likes particularly chinese cuisine. He likes her. He calls her Lu, in his fantasies. Dr. Krugger has plans for Lu.



The atmosphere is hot. The mixed aromas of the kitchen fill the restaurant area. It is very hot outside, the air conditioning is off, to save money, and the bag the doctor carries let out a faint rotten smell.


Dr. Krugger works as an anatomic pathologist. Recent events in his life, namely a divorce, have forced him to take a second job in another hospital, in order to help him pay his many bills. Yes, in the league of Dr. Krugger, more autopsies and more post-mortem organ exams mean more money. Besides, he supplies under the table selected body parts from unclaimed corpses to some unscrupulous members of the Medical Sciences Academia, a function that helps him greatly to balance his checking account at the end of each month.






Many would think that in this type of job you do not take work home. But unfortunately, this is not the case for Dr. Krugger. And this is precisely one of the most stressful parts among his duties. Not only for him. The former Msr. Krugger could not take it anymore. The sight of her kitchen turned into a gore laboratory was too much for her. But, alas, she was a vegetarian, it needs to be said.


-I am always open to your suggestion, dear lady. It would be very unwise on my part to disregard the accumulated wisdom of your ancient civilization, specially in matters concerned with health and nutritional science...


He smiles with charm, and the smile is about all Lu understands of all his parlament. She smiles back. The man is always nice with her. She looks at the doctor's bag, and represses all but the briefest grin of dismay.


He should have thought about this. He should have taken the bag home and put it into the fridge... But the urge to see Lu was stronger. Besides, he did not expect this liver would start rotting so fast. "Maybe the hospital refrigerator needs to be switched to the maximum power during the summer months. Or perhaps the liver was already rotten when the guy was still alive. Some people don't know how to drink with moderation, really", he thinks, half-amused.


-In my opinion, Sil, youl system would be bettel with oul chinese almonds and cucumbel stlips, and oul tofu chunks in spicy and numbing sauce. With some white lice and gleen spouts, Sil?


-Yes, yes, whatever you say, Lu... Lady. That will be allright. And tell me... how do you like it your work here?


-Yes, Sil, good, Sil.


-Come on, take some time and speak to me, won't you? And you don't need to call me "sir", please. My name is Alfred, Freddy if you want. And yours is...


-... Well Sil, wolk it is vely tiling, Sil, and the Boss ask to wolk a lot, many houls, Sil, always wolking, no flee day to lest, no Sil ...

She looks sideways to the kitchen door, as if checking the flow of orders, in truth trying to locate the boss to avoid being caught in conversation. Boss is a mean man.



At times, this gracious waitress feels somewhat limited in her understanding of the english speech, particularly when it goes beyond the limits of the restaurant menu. But she tries, she tries... Actually she studies hard at night, and is already showing some proficiency in her understanding. When she feels no pressure, she can have quite decent conversations.


-My name is Fred... Freddy. What is your name?


The girl smiles widely, losing that air of learnt officiality that threatened to neutralize her beauty. Krugger is thrilled. It is as if her whole being was suddenly taken by a charming spirit of the forest.


-My name is Lu Lin, Sil Fleddy. Lin means folest. Please let me take youl oldel to the kitchen, and I will be back soon.


The good doctor cannot believe the coincidence. He thought that idea about the spirit of the forest, and two seconds after, she says that about her surname, without being asked. Krugger looks at her figure as she walks away. "Amazing", he thinks. "There must be a billion names in China, but hers had to be Lu. Lu Lin". His reflexions don't take more time, because the odour coming from his bag is growing more and more noticeable. He is angry with himself for not foreseeing that possibility.


He tries to seal better the bag, using another auxiliary plastic he carries in his suitcase. But his movements only succeed attracting the attention of other clients, who had already noticed the nauseating smell.


Krugger is tired of his stressful life. Every day like this, running from one hospital to the other, carrying organs, working at home at late hours, in a lousy laboratory he managed to improvise in his own kitchen...


This is not a life. His system is crying for some relief. She looks at the kitchen doors and catches Lu's figure, speeding up with professional flair, carrying in her porcelaine hands one million orders, in her face the most charming and effortless smile. Krugger feels the excitement mounting, and suddenly he envisions the solution for his problems. Time to talk to Lu. Miss Forest. With some luck, maybe take her home. Now or never.


The girl darts with elegance among the tables, like a telecommanded rocket, delivering with precision in each table the fruits of the Chinese Garden. Krugger marvels at her speed without rush, the efficient elegance of her movements, her personal, corteous service, without excessive cordiality nor subservience.


Above all, he feels a desire to spend some quality time with her. That's the thing. Quality time. At last.


Lu has left Krugger's order to be the last one. The doctor takes it as a privilege, and gets ready to seize his opportunity.


She arrives to his right side, smiling, looks at the man briefly in his eyes, and starts reciting the names of the dishes. Just as she always does. But today she is not performing her machine-like declamation. Krugger notices a very faint undertone of grace and subtle intention in her voice, something mildly seductive. Discreet, but so powerful.


-Thank you so much, Lu Lin. I am delighted by your grace and ease at waiting all these tables by yourself. Listen, I have some things to ask you. Would you please sit down with me?


Lu looks around. She won't be needed soon. Family conversations have drawn to an halt, as every table initiates the milenary ritual of opening spring rolls, filling them with soja sauce, sharing sweet and sour delights, tasting Pekin ducks and chop-sueys. Everyone seems busy. The boss is out. She sits down facing the man. She smiles sweetly.


-I will try to be clear and simple, Lu. You are not happy here. I need an assistant. You seem to be a very bright girl. I suspect your education went well beyond waiting tables, with all due respect.


-Yes, Sil Fleddy. I have a Mastel in Nutlitional Science, and I am a doctol. Chinese medicine. Beijing Univelsity.


-This is marvellous! Well, well... I greet you as a colleague! I am a anatomic pathologist, work in two different hospitals. I often need to carry... well... parts of my work, if you know what I mean, from one place to another, also to home, at night. I have build there a modest laboratory, but it needs reforms and maintenance. And juggling everything is too much for myself.


He looks to the stinky bag at their side. She smiles, looking very happy.


-You would be perfect in assisting me in that logistic, and probably also as a qualified laboratory collaborator, at home. I will gladly double the pay you are getting here, more if I can, depending on how business goes. I would be glad if you accept my offer of a room in my house, free of charge. What do you say?


She does not answer immediately, but she looks as if she had already made a decision.


-Well, if you accept, we have two options: you share this wonderful food with me. But before, please would you place this bag on your best refrigerator? If you don't mind. Then after the meal, you can quit the job, say goodbye to Banana si-fa and ducklin crepes. Second option: forget the fridge, and we will take the food home, in the purest chinese style.


Lu has understood everything, and smiles with her most enchanting smile. She picks up a tofu chunk with her fingers and eats it with delight. She is simple and behaves without any artifice. Krugger understands that her tiniest gesture will bring wordless meaning to their brand-new world.


-I like you much, Fleddy. You can say you like me too. I know you do.


She tooks an almond with delicate fingers and put it slowly in her mouth. Krugger is speechless. She stands, takes the liver bag.


-Please stalt. I am going to lemove this stupid unifolm, put youl meat on the flidge, and I will be back... You ale leally a vely handsome man. I take the job.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...