A HAND IN THE FOG

XIII

The music was perfect. They were together in the living room just listening and one or another moment talked about some of their lives – a memory or a short story. The lamp was always off. Just the natural light of the night drew their bodies.

The time after dinner and before go to the bed it was also delicious.

It seems that the world had stopped and everybody had disappeared – only them in their particular style.

She preferred be in silence to absorb this bizarre style of dialogue that no one word was necessary. She loved this. Only the smoke and the smell of the cigars and of course the smell of the skin – put both landed. The dog at each almost half hour opened her eyes just to confirm they were in fact there. And went on sleeping on the carpet with her calm breath and the four legs completely relaxed.

It was a wonderful time to live and now to remember when they repeated almost the same scene – like a sweet ritual.

In the middle of the night before go to the bed – every night – they went to a ride with the dog. The park close home was empty at that time but it was a so safe ride. They let the dog run free and sit on the green bank of wood – to talk about the next day. Or just to be close and touch a little bit more. At that time – Time was dreamed and realized with deep intensity.

They learned perfectly that the Time goes fast and change plans and smiles without a preview.

The dog – that just celebrates the Existence and does not need to understand past or future – jumped and ran for some minutes and came close to her to receive a massage on the back – and then jumped and ran again and again.

Fun for all – could be a new inscription on the flag.

In the first night at this midnight ride in park she smiled thinking about herself and her past relationship with dogs. Never she could imagine – nor in the most perfect hallucination – be so friendly with a dog. She really liked her. And she, at her part of the relationship – took care of her. She just went back home or upstairs if she was together, if not she went back fast, four feet making the noise for call.

Communication is anarchic.

It doesn’t matter if has a word, a silence, a look or a bark.

Communication is a sign of freedom.

It can begins sometimes with a hand holding a paper, or a smile in a concert, or a turn of head, or a note on the bed, or a massage on the back, or a hug without a movement, or a breath in the middle of the night, or a coffee splash out on the kitchen’s floor, or a soft kiss on the hair in a long line, or with a frightened hand looking for help after a nightmare, or a pillow put under the head in pleasures moments, or the last look before a kiss, or the slow and strong touch before to feel.

Communication is an opened emotion.

But she was sure that the perfect measurement about feelings is when someone surrounds herself much more than the other can evaluate.

This happens in specific situation – when the selfish instinct goes down to an unbelievable low level. This is an uncontested proof of the existence of Love – for the lover and for the beloved. But there is no elements or tools to demonstrate clearly. It is necessary that both feel the same.

Communication needs energy.

She smiled to herself. How many thinking in the middle of the night in the park looking a dog jump and run.

He was right: she was sick. She looked at him and kissed him – sit on the green bank while the dog jumped and ran – a fast kiss on his arm. She remembered that he held her hand and looked at her with a tender way. Maybe he could read minds. Maybe. Or – he understood her from him self. Or perhaps – vice versa.

Some weeks after this first time at the park, when she went back and was sadly very far from him – nine thousand, nine hundreds, forty-three kilometers – she received a message from him. He sent a message about someone she didn’t know. This unknown person to her had written for another person close to him and told about both walking in the park.

She was really surprised. So – there is no place all over the world that anybody can’t be observed for someone.

The person wrote: I saw him with a beautiful lady in the park with a dog. Looking at them – the way they were – it awake inside me the desire to live.

She was both: surprised and happy. She knew since ever that the nomination came from the other. It’s “the other” that can read and translate a couple or a style, a solitude or a sharing, a fraternal or a sensual touch – and nominate who is with who. More or less like this, the concept was some like this, but of course not literally. Literal concepts are good-for-nothing. And at that time – no fog covered them.

She smiled.

She read many times his message. She could not believe that the anonymity could be broken so easily. She had the habitude to be transparent and suddenly her invisibility was broken like a glass. The change made her astonished. But as always – she faced.

It was in fact funny because she “reborn” – because of a message – in another country. Someone that she never saw during all her life, described her inside and outside. Someone that she never saw during all her life described her feelings. Fantastic.

She stopped to think about the park, the dog and the visibility when she came with a glass of wine to celebrate the so expected meeting. Another noise – and at this time so loud – made both look back immediately.

Communication doesn’t need asks and – sometimes – no formal answers.

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