Strobe lights were flickering and casting shadows, summoning an abstract geometry close to Riemann’s mathematics, where parallels meet. The dance floor was empty, sound mopping the dust in the rays of light. Liquids were splashed everywhere, allowing corners of reflections to come alive in the strange world of a 4 AM club.
Lavinia was sitting at the junction of light and dark, in the back of the club, leaning her fragile body on a rundown wall. She looked like a graffiti. One could even have smell the foul odor of the bathroom nearby. The guy next to her was biting her ear in a superfluous attempt to elicit an emotional response. None was given. She was just surgically trying to remember the plot of the movie “Eternity and a day”.
I told her there was no plot and that Alexandros was both alive and dead, happy with his wife, in a never ending sea of dreams, illusions and despair. In a Schrödingerian state.
Her knees were bloody. While I think about that I am barbarically attracted by that scene in a strangely sexual way. She was wearing a white, diaphanous, dress and some brownish sandals when she tripped and fell. I remember that I laughed quite hard, with her laying down on the cold, wet, concrete slab. She got up and her knees were bloody. She pulled up her skirt showing the pale white skin of her thighs.
My hands were dirty. Her face was clean and clear. She was eating cherries, up in the cherry tree. My dirty hands on her pure white face. Her red lips and the cherries hanged upon her ears. The tall green grass under the cherry tree hiding small summer insects. Crawling, breeding, dying. Whispers of evening noises were to be heard on alien frequencies, as the sun gave his last breath on her naked body. Crickets everywhere. Dogs barking. We were 21 years old.
Her face was white. I could still see her levitating under the cold, clear, water of the lake. The lake had a rocky bottom. I see rocks, geometrically compromised Spyrogira-covered rocks. The deep green of the algae with her white pale face could have been a beautiful painting.
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Lavinia
Simți fiorul artei? Ești un nou Eminescu? Arata-ne ce poți!
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