The persistence of memory


The_Persistence_of_Memory

The Persistence of Memory – Salvador Dali

The minute he walked in, I knew, I’d seen those eyes before – up close.  I’d been mesmerized by those eyes, for one night.  They were not his eyes exactly, but they looked exactly like his.  Big, and innocent, staring at the world in wonder.  Childlike innocence written on his otherwise uneventful sun-kissed face.

I asked him to dance.  He looked confused at first, then stepped forward, and took me in a close dance hold – Chest to chest, cheek to cheek.  I’d seen those eyes before.  And where I’d seen those eyes, before, I’d seen the face of someone else I’d seen before.  But only when he smiled.  This must be what time travel feels like.  Memories of things I’d not thought about came flooding back, the time I saw those eyes before.  Intoxication makes me see deeper than I normally see.  It can makes me feel deeper than I normally feel.  It makes my hands instruments of a mysterious goddess of sensuality.  My alter ego.  My true self.

He looked like the gentlest most joyful soul I’d never have expected to meet.  I saw him as he came in.  He looked at me.  I looked to my food.  I was not interested in some Brit looking for an exotic fling.  There were two of them.  Then suddenly he was leaning over my table, right over my food.  “Can I smell your lobster?” He asked.  Too shocked to reply (it was too late anyway as he was sniffing it already) I smiled.  They went to sit.   When I looked up, only once I did, he was staring at me with those eyes.  Those big eyes were swallowing me whole.  And I had no choice in the matter.  At the counter paying my bill, the two of them appeared.  Then we were talking, and they were persuading me to stay another day,  There was no resisting it, even though I knew it would change this place for me forever.  I had no choice.  When he told me the story of his name, I was destined to never forget.

Holiday romances are unforgettable.

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