Eternal Student: literature, poetry, history, art, and philosophy. English Teacher. Writer & painter. Traveller & skier (when there's $$$). I'm young enough to be foolish, yet old enough to know better. Lover of dark & beautiful things.
Fusion: when two souls meet
A woman touches her black velvet dress while drinking, sipping something-ruby-lovely from a chilling glass. A man touches her through her velvet dress, thinking of the warm, lovely feeling if their bodies pressed together. Both are dressed to impress, impressed into a crowd of mostly well-dressed, and they are intent on impressing (with hopes of further, more familiarly pressing) each other. First she, then he, sees the next couple coming in. Now they both are intent on looking unimpressed while looking directly at them. She looks way too young, the man is thinking. He looks way too old for her, the woman is thinking. Neither continues staring very long, because staring is admitting to pretending to care that one is looking. Conversation carries on, attended by swarms of circulating trays of fruit-flavorings in glasses swirling with fermented sugar. A tray, born by a body wearing a worker's dress and expression, passes, tilting -almost spilling- in the process of offering its nectar to new arrivals. Lightening its load by having two glasses removed, it fades back into the throng brimming with ounces of purpose.
Chimes tinkling. Faerymusic. Harmless winsome windchime bells (cobwebbed) hanging by a thread, borne by the winds. Boading no ill-omen nor intent. Faery (moth) wings breathblown whispering neither good nor bad intent, nither sad nor happy thoughts. Bereft of intention.