Aromatic friends.
The past days have swallowed my existence into divagations of the body, soul and mind…divagations of my interaction with the world, the way I move and the way my movements evolve in impact waves on everything that surrounds me and by itself is surrounded by something else…the feedback of that wave…the feedback I return to those answers I receive and consciously and unconsciously I reply. I truly believe I’ve evolved in some positive dimensions of other spheres existence…I feel it. On the other side this makes me more and more scared to move towards certain directions but at the moment I prefer to grab on what’s secure than to grab in the dark and lose myself in unstable hypothesis…my flatmate today revealed me that some of her friends she classifies as aromatic friends in opposition to colourful friends…to me it makes some sense this distinction because it just feels different…a colourful friend most of us know what it means, seems more secure and visual, knowing what I’m looking at, and what I want from that person is established…aromatic friends are not so certain, because I don’t really know what visually they means to me (as a complete dynamic picture of what a person is to me, not just an visual static image)…
Do we turn most of the things into visual images? I believe most of the people we do turn into an image but when they become aromatic, it gives us a sensation of insecurity, instability (that I treasure so much!) because we do not have a certain image of it…but on the other side these persons in my mind have more room for mystification and imagination. This expression puts a smile on my face cause it gives some sense to some people I couldn’t find a meaning for…physical attractions, super-ego blockades, intellectual stimulation, uncertain and fascinating worlds, always ready to surprise me, unexpected behaviours, always throwing new perfumes in the air…I can close my eyes and dance with them in the middle of an open field under a star filled sky illuminated by a full moon only following their aroma (“Mausam” performed by Nitin Sawhney in the album Philtre).
Thanks for exploding my world,
I.M.H.
Do we turn most of the things into visual images? I believe most of the people we do turn into an image but when they become aromatic, it gives us a sensation of insecurity, instability (that I treasure so much!) because we do not have a certain image of it…but on the other side these persons in my mind have more room for mystification and imagination. This expression puts a smile on my face cause it gives some sense to some people I couldn’t find a meaning for…physical attractions, super-ego blockades, intellectual stimulation, uncertain and fascinating worlds, always ready to surprise me, unexpected behaviours, always throwing new perfumes in the air…I can close my eyes and dance with them in the middle of an open field under a star filled sky illuminated by a full moon only following their aroma (“Mausam” performed by Nitin Sawhney in the album Philtre).
Thanks for exploding my world,
I.M.H.
P.S. - And now you ask: Is she one of those friends? No she isn't but the previous two you asked about were...and you are too!
posted by Imploding Mutant Hysteria at 2:32 AM
1 Comments:
Em gestos despidos mas ensaiados, fui-me aconchegando a ele. Esgotei as palavras numa hora de conversa repetida e vazia. Ele não fuma, mas não se sentiu incomodado com o meu meio maço de cigarros, despejado naquele cinzeiro imundo. Os cheiros da sua pele rondavam o meu imaginário e o movimento dos seus olhos seduziam o meu desejo e a minha ansiedade. Não sabia se lhe deveria tocar agora ou continuar a contar o resto dos minutos que nos sobravam, naquela hora apressada. Fui directa ao assunto e consegui aproximar-me do seu dorso, tentando sentir o seu respirar, com a intenção de perceber, ou pelo menos tentar, se o seu ritmo acompanhava o meu. Não estava apaixonada, mas necessitava ter dele, outra reacção, outra emoção… Agarrei-lhe na mão, com muita força, para depois, delicadamente, fazer com que os seus dedos encontrassem a minha figura, o meu corpo. Os meus seios, despontavam, em essência, uma excitação única, e o meu rosto esboçava o primeiro sorriso da noite; ele não contrariou as minhas intenções. Despi-lo não foi uma tarefa fácil. Mas o tempo já não contava, e contemplar a sua nudez, permitiu-me ir mais longe nas minhas fantasias. Eu, despi-me para ele! Tinha encenado todo o comportamento, houvera caprichado na indumentária. E não me libertei do fetiche das ligas, que obriguei a “desmontar” com minúcia e dedicação. E foi nesse instante que percebi que a noite iria ser longa. Adormecer nos seus braços, guardada entre as suas pernas, era a imagem construída para depois. Foi fácil despertar ao seu lado. Durante o sono, tombei meus lábios nas suas pálpebras, tentando preservar todos os seus sonhos! Sacudi os meus cabelos para trás no último instante repentino que me foi permitido. Eram 4 horas da tarde, quando me vesti e regressei a casa para cuidar do Afonso, o meu gato.
Hoje, tua mulher….
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