The wind charms jangled loudly together in the wind. She could feel herself being knocked around by them. She was a whisp of smoke. Sprawled on the floor, hair long hair tangled and knotted, buried in thoughts which were no longer linear. Her body ached for the essence of him. She needed to be by his side, to touch to feel, to fuck. What was the point of it all? Her here and him there, he asked her to wait for him, but her head ached with the impossibility of it all.
The pain from the hangover was a relief. She crawled into bed and slept. Some time passed, she did not know how much, she ached becoming aware of her stale body. Her thoughts were rotting her from the inside out. She arose and slouched in front of the computer typing out a generic reply to his love message. It did not say anything she wanted to hear and she did not type anything she wanted to say. That she had not left her house in four days, that she could not eat, that she had lost six kilograms since he left. That she could not see a future any longer.
The previous night she had sat alone in the back of an art cinema and watched a film about Manuela Saenz. A tragedy, the beautiful heroine rides over the Andes to be by the side of her beloved, su liberador. That night she dreamt that her body was clawing its way towards him. She awoke, knowing she would, but the fucking boarder control would send her back. She had experienced too much love, too much happiness. Once the ecstatic harmony had ended, as it does, as it must, rivers of dissatisfaction flooded the soul. There was no land left.
The world was so fucked up, borders and barriers, global ass.
Alternating between sleep and sobbing dry tears, she arose from her terror, put on a dress, make-up and walked 40 minutes into the town to dance salsa. Now she felt good. Twirling and turning, red heels, loud, proud, dirty and flirty, once she had gulped her way past the first foul tasting drinks they actually went down ok. She was danced with many men. Then there was only one man, their eyes met. Her eyes had found life he twirled her. She fell.
“Come home with me,” he proposed, little question in his voice, his greedy hand gripping between her legs. In her trashed state she was experienced a sensation she remembered, a familiar sensation. She could think of no reason why she shouldn’t, he was gone. In the morning she stroked out of habit. Her hands felt the shrivelled unfamiliar reptilian figure. None of the elements of the universe were on her side. They were aligned against her in that single moment of life. So she gave in. The feeling of skin on skin, the rough body on top of her, her supple young body merged with his. She let her demon spirit run wild, so her mind could rest.
She had found some peace.
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