Immortal delicacy

October 1, 2007

With ticking clocks all around the city and with the sound of heels matching la-di-da fragrances, I stepped out from that black old 80's car.

I smelled the road, the wind, the usual red carpet with a million stories on it, then got afraid and called him with a quick move;

like a reflex. What if he wasn't there?

He, smiled, obviously was smiling when he reached for me, looked, and kept smiling when first impressions were all over my mind. He was posh, secure and impressive, yet not at all like my choice of guys.

Then he stopped my thoughts, the escape, the crazy run in my mind. He just leaned on me and gave me a kiss on the cheek;

a very innocent welcome. Like Beethoven playing Sonata 8th, starting delicately and with a perfect control of self.

And yes I did it. I closed my eyes when his scent touched my skin.
His scent never left my mind since. A salty touch of water on tired but young skin brushed with city lights and minty shaving cream. I won't lie to you. His eyes did not matter at all or his words. Yet, his scent like waterfalls tumbling down on me;

lemon, boss and somewhat green over his very blue eyes. Corrupting the connection between my body and my soul, like violins of Chopin cutting the way of his piano touches, sharp and unique. There is no way to escape it. You are chosen to face it, to embrace it.

Everybody has a scent. They come secretly, but they explicitly define the boundaries of personalities walking around us all the time. Maybe they rule the time. They stop it and build it back again when they want it to run again. Maybe God made the world by scents, powerful yet unforeseen powers.
I've met people covered up with happy vanilla scents but built by the spicy touch of sadness or people walking with the day essence on them collecting flowers from north on their skins. But for the posh guy of mine of that night, he smelled like fire sparkles on salty ocean waves with a couple of drops of lemon and a bossy look. He came with a smile and brought me smiles. Then he stole them all with his scent, stepping away, one step at a time
And in the noise of my heels I found more questions. This city makes me inquest all the scents in the world. When I walk, I just close my eyes and smell the humanity, smell the newly made drawings in the corner on my right, smell the old cabs, smell the make-up of artists getting ready to perform on stage, smell the tears of the girl whose phone is too silent, smell the eye of London and remember the scent of your best friend when she calls walking back.

A guy who smells like earth, asked me why I like cities a lot.

I think I have limitless answers to that question yet please count this writing as one and close your eyes.

Menu Title