Thinking of 'S' and lot more-less

Last night I caught the 9:45 from Dusseldorf to Grevenbroich. It is one of those two-coach suburban trains, scheduled such, as to take people working late back home. There were two girls sitting across me, probably waitresses, because they were still wearing their black tunics with white collars. They were chatting and sharing an apple, a country apple, the color of crimson fused with cream. In between laughter and animated chatter, they bit the apple, lipstick making red streaks on the cream.

I dozed off for awhile and some where on the outskirts of Neuss I dreamt of S. It has been a year at least, since I last saw S. Though I have met her less than half a dozen times, I did like her. Maybe not in a romantic kind of way, but I did like her. I liked her because of what she could have been.

She could be strong, independent and authoritative but often she inexplicably gave in.
She was always beautiful but she had it in her to embody grace, but she never did.
She could have been sharp and cerebral, but she wandered on the fringes of bimbette land.
She could have made love in a sublime kind of way, instead she chose to fuck.
She could have had the limelight forever, but I think she had stage fright.
She could have used her wit but she used her cleavage.
She had these bursts of brilliance which could streak the night, but she only touched a moment.

Its not that I am making a value judgment, but I did see something out of the ordinary in what she could be. I wonder where she is now, and I hope she is happy and all of that.

I am sure people have a million and more things they wish I was. Some of that stuff maybe real stuff and the rest prejudice - but I do know there is some very real stuff out there.

I have a confession to make, I fancy the Kate Winslet song ‘What if’, very popish in bits but I think it’s rather nice.

I am in this preachy frame of mind today. Let me push the gauntlet just a tad more, while I still can. By way of sapient advice, especially for my cousins, some of whom are on the threshold of college/work life. At the threshold of getting their hands dirty in the muck of the real, big, complex world, all whilst trying to keep ones soul pure and pristine and all of that. A world where we conceal all that is important and reveal all that is illusionary.

These lines are from ‘Love in the times of Cholera’. And it speaks a truth,

“He would never reveal it...not because he did not want to open the chest where he had kept it so carefully hidden, but because he realized only then that he had lost the key”

Labels: Fiction