Friday, April 23, 2010

Candid Blossoms

He looked at the sky, his lips tight but slightly raised in the corners and his nostrils flared. For a moment he stood motionless, watching the white sky puncutated with thin frothy layers, until a tear formed in the hollow of his right eye. His eyes blinked wildly and shut. Then a glowing smile formed around his mouth while he raised his hands against his closed eyelids. A moment later I heard him exhale deeply.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked softly. I did not move from my place in the middle of the grass and began to feel the wetness of the earth penetrating my clothes.

He smiled, half of his face still buried in his hands.

"Tell me," I added. I snatched a few blades of grass between my thumb and forefinger and started rolling them around in my fingers. I kept looking at him, waiting him to uncover his face and answer me.

Eventually, I sighed and let myself fall backwards, stretching my legs in the grass and turning my head sideways to feel strands brushing against my skin. They tickled my cheeks more than they caressed them, but there was something terribly attractive in the movement. I breathed in the green waterlogged hairs. Their scent was almost sweet, punctuated with mint and… some kind of spice. Cinnamon? Cardamom? Cloves, maybe. I let my thoughts wander in the infinity of the earth, my body sink into the soft soil of spring. My hands let go of the grass and I let myself capsize. I laughed. Eyes closed. I had joined him. Here in this land of sweet softness, I did not expect any response. There I expected nothing more than a cover made of sky to wrap myself in the whole universe.

To cook your sweet blossoms, use the Easter biscuits recipe.
And to soften bosoms, add some Royal icing (feathers and glue between limbs) and melted chocolate.

Detail from Singing Crane, a woodcut by Chinese artist Wen-Chen, date unknown. Found here.

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