Day 5, 1150km until Hanoi. I saw you by the wayside in the light of the morning sun through the banyan leaves, mottled calico shadows dancing upon your coconut-brown skin. Your lips were full, sumptuous, curled at the corners to meet the smile in your eyes as you sat by the dusty roadside tending to the family shop, and the light in them glistened like stars do in the thin air of alpine mountaintops. I sat down nearby in a seat where I could see you out of the corner of my eye, watching you as you worked, wondering about the life you led, your hopes, your fears, the dreams and fantasies that strike you when you are awake in the witching hours. Your hands flowed like mountain streams, and each of the subtle motions of your head felt like watching trees fall in a mudslide. I wanted to see the look on your face in the mornings, bleary with sleep in the light streaming through lace curtains, to hear the lyrical euphony of your laugh rippling through the hot wet air. I wanted to take you with me, to see the look on your face as we circled the world hand, to see your eyes close and a smile creep across your lips as the smell of the meal I’d prepared for you wafted into the soft umber arches of your nose. In a moment a lifetime flashed before my eyes, a swirling fantasia of joy and pleasure unmarred by pain nor sorrow filled with the light and sea wind that held us both in their bosom that beautiful morning by the South China Sea. I wanted to speak, but I had not the words; I wanted to show you, but I had not the time. In the next moment that came I stood, and rode away from you never to return, never to see you again, never to hear your voice in passing nor ever to feel the wind from your body brushing past mine, to another life and another world apart, hoping that in another world we might meet once more.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Apr 2014 10:14:25 +0000
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