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Touch

Robert David
trebordivad.wordpress.com



Publicat Duminică, 29 Octombrie 2006, ora 09:57

      It seems he already saw the amethyst light or maybe it was only an impression, a simple sensation and a moon’s reflection. The sounds of the silence came in torrents of notes, like a waterfall of the slow tonalities, escaped from the cage of a capricious master.
      It has been a long time when nothing raped the silence of the plain.
      Only the sun blinked between the clouds, a pen of light drawing the already painted area. From time to time it has been hidden by the violet natural bodies of flying cotton clouds, making the earth to tremble under the wind pales.
      From now on, neither the light nor darkness has pretend to own the plains drilling machines. An imperceptible slowly music rises up to the sky between the hill excrescences.
      It has been a drilling machines city; the few iron monsters has laying on the grass, and between the human shelters it could be seen thin roads, growing one from another like the roots of an very old tree.
      He sits into his chair smoking a cigar. He came in the morning by train. Not in holiday, and his wife, after she took a look at him in that manner, told him it would not be a problem to stay away a few days one by another. Maybe she even smiled or at least a little brown point in the corner of his mouth seems to disappear for a while. It happened many times. They did never argued...
      In one of the nearest trees, a little move appeared. A few stars shined ashamed on the black sky. Like lost diamond in the nights hair. The hair… He smokes with passion and let the smog to invade his senses.
      But, sometimes, seems to be a special order of things, a hidden secret that you are happy to discover when you need it the most. The sound of the phone like a bug scared by the traveler's shoe.
      "Hello? Good evening!" said the voice. A cold fever invaded the whole world below the shining stars. "How are you?"
      No matter how dreamer he was and how much he believed in his strengths, he knew it could not be possible to know someone with this voice. "Who do you looking for?" answered very polite. The answer came like a warm wind on his cold face. "I’m looking for you…" and the cold fever made him trembling. "I’m glad I found you", the whisper reach the cold stones from the edge of his conscience.
      An ice cube raised in dimensions into his stomach. "Who are you?"
      A sax sound begun to be heard from all the corners of the room. And like an irrational cut of an old movie, the magnolia smell seems to appear like another verse in the song.
      "You know exactly who I am. Relax…" whispered again.
      The music increased in intensity. He closed his eyes and let him fly between the arms of the chair. The call it’s over.
      "Oh, you understood… I knew it…"
      Like a vertigo born from nowhere, the concert became plenary. He saw each violin playing, each finger touching the thin throat of the violin, the hands running on the piano white surface, the tremble of a body aimed by fever. Somewhere up, above the stage, with the wind hitting his young face, the solo girl has the eyes half closed and the hat ready to fly on the ocean. But she doesn’t sing at all. She seems to look far away, where the water became blue at the horizon.
      "I’m waiting for you…" she said. "Come back…" she whispered. "Don’t leave me…," she cry.
      But the mist it’s over. He felt again the coldness of the phone into his wet hand. The usual tone, maybe a little louder as usual, made him to close the dialog. He breath deeply, inspiring the mountain smell coming together with the night, trying to stop his heartbeats.
      He picked up again the phone and made the very familiar number. The fingers are trembling and the heart doesn’t understand anything.
      He felt to be all right only after he heard the voice. Warm, friendly, very well known. Now he is able to speak, again…
     
     

© Copyright Robert David
Sursa :   Imagikon
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