She woke to the sound of the timber, loud and clear as if trumpted by the clock calculating the dear departed. It ran in obscurity, obsessively slow, solicitously mutating, taking a life of its own. She thought it was the town snake, snoozing its way through the mud; perhaps, the eerie dwarf across the street spreading a cheaper version of the salad dressing recipe to the residents but it wasn’t. Legend is, it wasn’t even a story but as clear as mama’s homemade grits: the old weasel, the security guard, drunk as skunk, snoring his hearts content as he slept.
Funny is he who believes he is something that he is not. What defines us is who we are, as beings. Nothing like bringing about what is you. The concatenated spirit. The candor that lies beneath the perfect smile and decorative persona. The wounded soul. The intrinsic nature of your everyday existence. The values, the essence, the ideal machine, the organic wrapping paper that governs the gadget that has become you!
Lorena was this gorgeous Latina starlet from Chile. Jennifer Lopez she wasn’t but Rita Moreno, she came close to but wait, Rita Moreno is not blonde, neither is Jennifer and both ladies are Puerto Ricans. Ok, moving on. She was this picturesque, very tall – the perfect poster girl for a Vogue cover, body perfect, blonde, blue eyes, Barbie like elegant sassy starlet and any dreamer date heaven. Bruno, on the other hand, was an Italian stud muffin, black hair, brown eyes who reminded her of Paul Newman. Yes, Paul Newman but wait, he was blonde with blue eyes… never mind, carry on. In essence she was trying to tell us that in her eyes, he was a hunk and…
That’s where the story ends. Lorena she wasn’t, Italian she is, model she wasn’t but could be, her name I don’t recall. I met her at a leather store in Florence, Italy where she worked and I was trying to buy a handbag. Her smile made all possible!