HOPE
The sun was hot and high in the sky when I woke up in the early afternoon after the last dancing frantic joyful fuck with Narcisa at sunup. It had been some night. As I rode over to my post at the beach in the windy afternoon, my groggy mind wandered over last night’s events like a hungry bum searching for scraps over the fuzzy terrain of recent memory. Hope…
Narcisa and I spent the night sitting out on the veranda looking over the city as she recited some of her apocalyptic poetry for me. We even had a tape recorder going finally, like we’ve been talking about the last coupla weeks and she was really hamming it up… Hours and hours, practicing reading out loud, reciting her latest poems, talking, ranting, enchanting my soul deeper and deeper again and again, weaving her magical spells, singing obscure crazy songs that only she knows, dredged up from the tomb of the beautiful child who lives and dances feral and free behind her spun out searching eyes of fire and passion. There is life behind those eyes… Gloria A Deus!
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008.
NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.
