Hugged for long with Erica (the actors made us 🙂 ) – a lovely girl a coté – lived in Ldn, just moved to Paris. Kept taking notes hiding away in her diary. Curvy but sexy. 27ish. Jeans cut mid-thigh with black embroidery in-threaded partly covering the cut. Open face. Not so much body posture way tho. Pitty 🙂
Who’s this guy? where does he get his hope from? Seems more at the end of it than me! I pass by the stash of discarded things the next morning. He’s right. There is still some, left there on the bottom of that pandora box – a trace of humanity.
A new scenario for a film about dying quickly comes to mind. One where I’d go and get him out of bed, exhausted of hope as he is. (…) and dance myself extatic! Get him to dance with me to the edge of life/love. “Se a cabo” style.
The dust of faith, the disappearance of the men in the boat, the transcendence of hope. A feeling of sorrow and lightness flowing together. A presence.
Trees to reshape your imagination. Both of us branching gaze and breath, hands and steps through their gigantic intricate stories. Antropoforming emotions, dramas and passions. Tragedies. Venalities.
… Just sexdump that girl.
And go for the one that would stab you while you lean your damn brains back in confidence. Full thrust. Gut or chest you red:
“I’ll give you lust mofo!”
As if this proximity to the organic and the vital needs is somewhat inherently manifest in the way people befriend each other here.