i'll tell you a story. a dream that i find the most beautiful of all mine and that is regarded as a very sad one by most of the ones whom i shared it with.
it's the one when i looked into the eyes of love and they were blue and full of movement.
there was a girl sitting on the edge of a high cliff. softness of july under her hands and the wall of a forest not so far behind her back made her smile. hot gusts of wind moved her hair now and then under the clear blue sky. below only crop fields and meadows, colours dulled by the dust of long summer days. the school building below looked so tiny and still from this height. time stood still. some points were moving around the grey old manor. soundless. hypnotizing.
a sound raised her ears but eyes remained focused on the same spot. smooth steps were growing closer from the woods. then they stopped, surrounded by idle reality. only her golden hair danced like careful pendulums. a soft sound. now two more legs hanged on the outside of her own, swinging over the panorama. nothing really happened. no one spoke. no bird sang. an early afternoon.
- spread your arms - he whispered. - like a bird.
slow vowels. sweet drones, like in a song. it was no echo.
blink I
- we will jump - he said in the same whispering manner, putting his hands a bit over the girl's arms. softly. everything about him was soft, ash-whispering. he was close yet his presence was light in a very peculiar way, like a september wind painted by afternoon sun.
he pushed her forward, following her body with his own, always close by a breath. they were falling, down, to the distant ground.
it should have felt scary. it should have felt fast. it felt like a flight.
the air around was mild, the boy's touch delicate. no hurry in falling.
being aware and yet not realizing - is it the heart's way? if so, they were following it to the ground. it drew closer, they were almost...
NOW. it got to her a few meters before hitting: they jumped and fell, and now they'll ----- but why aren't they?
just some centimeters above the ground, the dust flew into the air and they landed. softly, no sound. they sat there when the dust fell. silence. togetherness.
blink II
many people gathered that noon on the schoolyard, intrigued by hammer slams and rumbles. she made her way through the crowd.
a rocket. a really shabby space rocket. and he was building it. or rather - putting together pieces of different sizes, colours, materials. it wouldn't work, he was insane. and determined.
days passed as he worked restlessly to build the vehicle. and when he was finished, she was there, in the first row among all other students, awaiting the start.
why didn't anyone try to stop this? couldn't they see? couldn't he?
he was doomed to crash in that piece of junk, although everyone looked enthusiastically when he got in wearing an everyday-like looking overall and a helmet. the door slammed behind him. the girl looked up, speechless and paralyzed. buzz. more buzz. dust in the air, a hot wave spreading from under the rocket.
then it flew up, one, two, ten, thirty meters, like in a slow motion film.
and it started falling. her heart pounded as the rocket crashed exactly with the start point. smoke shooting from the inside, burning flames.
she stood there nailed to the asphalt yard. someone carried him out, black, covered in ash.
she stood there. forgot to blink.
blink III
a few weeks later she was pushing his wheelchair up to the cliff. they stopped close to the edge and observed the world below. it was still and motionless, they were quiet. his messy hair was in the colour of wheat fields.
has anything changed?
would he walk again? she swinged her feet over the landscape as she came back there again. has anything changed? was she calm? was she sad?
everything looked the same. dusty sunlight, hot quiet. only she was alone this time. spread her arms. didn't move. wind did.
jumped.
and she fell like anyone would, no mysterious cloud raising her right above the ground.
a hit. a thump. dust. darkness.
blink IV
she opened her eyes in a whiteness.
a room. bare, white walls, white night table, white hospital bed. voiceless.
a window in the roof, an attic room then. door on her right stuffed with a dense shadow. she turned her head towards it and looked. she couldn't move. no pain. no motion either.
then the shadows shifted and he rolled in on his wheelchair, without a word, with eyes fixed on hers. creating a kind of unbreakable channel between their pupils.
they were blue and striking. strong and sad. his eyes. if water could become fire without losing itself, it would look just like that. the ultimate blueness absorbing all of her, asking without a question mark and with all the love the world could contain:
why would you
