It was a direct proposition. Almost a provocative statement. What would happen if she knows you're writing about her?
What would happen? -I answered trying to change the topic and look confident about the answer. I would not be the first one on describing her infinite beauty, her shining eyes and her quietness. I will not be the last one of seeing her in secret, to be astonished by the way she is, to become mad or crazy about her, and she will just be the same every time, the magic is always in her nature.
What can happen? I asked for myself after the inquiry finished with no more interest. Would she be happy? Maybe she can get some interest, perhaps some boredom. Maybe she would ask about this or that detail, why I see that on her, why I never asked.
The answer of that is so complicated that I have to write it before anything happens. I'd be nervous; no one is usually inquired of something that is just in his head, just imagine the things live in the soul. I'd be worried about using the right words in the foreign language to have a satisfactory response without exposing my heart, to convince without being convinced, to take the chance I wanted after all. Because outside is still cold, and because I take too much time to recover.
And then imagination came back, and my optimistic part would say that the next take includes her shining eyes expanded by the answer. And then her smile would begin provoking an earthquake, the good ones that unfreeze hearts and bring hopes. And then the joy of knowing that would make her talk to me, to ask for more to be curious and careful of what she reads, of what it means. And maybe a kiss of goodbye, or maybe two. And perhaps a promise in her eyes.
But my optimism is not alone, and maybe she doesn't like it. She would ask politely or even rudely that I should take all of that from my mind, like I haven't tried before, like the infected teeth in the mouth of an impoverished child, without knowing it is the only way to get some food. She would tell that all of this is pointless or even denying it's existence like some people have denied that the earth is rounded. And on the extreme, she would slap my face, and break my heart.
She does know my final answer, and she's proud of the way it is, it's my initial hope.
What would happen? -I answered trying to change the topic and look confident about the answer. I would not be the first one on describing her infinite beauty, her shining eyes and her quietness. I will not be the last one of seeing her in secret, to be astonished by the way she is, to become mad or crazy about her, and she will just be the same every time, the magic is always in her nature.
What can happen? I asked for myself after the inquiry finished with no more interest. Would she be happy? Maybe she can get some interest, perhaps some boredom. Maybe she would ask about this or that detail, why I see that on her, why I never asked.
The answer of that is so complicated that I have to write it before anything happens. I'd be nervous; no one is usually inquired of something that is just in his head, just imagine the things live in the soul. I'd be worried about using the right words in the foreign language to have a satisfactory response without exposing my heart, to convince without being convinced, to take the chance I wanted after all. Because outside is still cold, and because I take too much time to recover.
And then imagination came back, and my optimistic part would say that the next take includes her shining eyes expanded by the answer. And then her smile would begin provoking an earthquake, the good ones that unfreeze hearts and bring hopes. And then the joy of knowing that would make her talk to me, to ask for more to be curious and careful of what she reads, of what it means. And maybe a kiss of goodbye, or maybe two. And perhaps a promise in her eyes.
But my optimism is not alone, and maybe she doesn't like it. She would ask politely or even rudely that I should take all of that from my mind, like I haven't tried before, like the infected teeth in the mouth of an impoverished child, without knowing it is the only way to get some food. She would tell that all of this is pointless or even denying it's existence like some people have denied that the earth is rounded. And on the extreme, she would slap my face, and break my heart.
She does know my final answer, and she's proud of the way it is, it's my initial hope.
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