The eye wandered more freely on the restless shore and the mind was anxiously weaving the threads of its life. The sea was buzzing with blue indigo and my past like a deafening cry resounded beyond the endless mountains and the divine line of the sky and approached me with tenderness. In the recesses of my mind suddenly began to take flesh and blood the female who showed me what is lust and what is pain. But suddenly, I was scared of her face and I quickly erased her memory like I do with my cigarettes on the ship’s handrail.
I shook the glass, the ice cubes collided and the drops of whiskey wet my lips. Cowardly I then drew my gaze to the souls who stood on the deck that were following and leaving roads. Just like that, I was absorbed in them at once. On the steamer around me stood women yellow as gold. Their foreign wings had fallen; the foreign eyebrows, the paints, the false breasts. The nails were bruised and the cheeks hanged with wrinkles. And as you saw them on the verge of vomiting and collapse, you felt a disgust but at the same time a compassion. Shame is compassion, you feel it when you feel sorry for the other. I felt sorry for her too.
The waves now erupted wildly in the crystal porthole, the clouds covered my insignificant face and a light rain was dripping on the ship’s wet floor. I, too, was half solid and half anarchic between memory and reality. I walked timidly into the depths of my soul and felt that caress again with my fingertip on her pointed chin, the touch of her full hair behind her ear, the kiss on her two purple lips. And I knew from the first moment deep inside me that all this lasts as long as it takes a sharp breath. And then fire. And all that remains is a raw loneliness for which you are never ready. I cursed her for a long time for causing me pain like I have never experienced before and I caught my naive mind thinking gloomy moments of revenge. He wanted to crawl in her life, he wanted to see her hurt like she once hurt him.
But one snowy night after a while, under a snowy roof of a grocery store, stood this female who with tears in her eyes sucked the brandy and cursed the people. It was unpainted, ugly, unfortunate. The few flakes fell carelessly into her unkempt hair. She opened and closed her lips vividly and threw words that cut like a razor the heart of anyone who heard them. Wrapped in my dark veil, unable to approach her, I was left to look at her from the street corner. I could see the veins in her throat swelling and screaming for injustice, disrespect, betrayal, beatings. Renouncing a man’s world. I could see the bruises on her wrists, the scratches under her lively apples and I was shivering.
And while I was gazing helplessly at her worn-out beauty, the people around me froze for a moment and the indestructible voices of the night began to whisper to me. It was said with human shame that myriad women not out of love, but only from this animal instinct, the undifferentiated lust, over time have been raped, tortured and killed as if by male jealousy, as by male nerve ‧ it does not matter why . It was said that the eternal woman carries bruises and wounds on her, that her face is deformed and painted with a funeral pallor, but in all this incessant sadness, a gargling laugh resonates crystal clear. It is her own proud laugh coming from a deep source, deeper than the human gut. The woman is your breath, your smile, your tear, your whole existence. Love the woman, because she only deserves love. And the voices are now silent.
These true words made my eyes water. And as soon as my heart was on fire and filled with courage, I slowly approached the crushed female and wiped her hot tears. Her soul had already been washed away; the woman in front of me was ready to be reborn. Her eyes were ready to give virginity again to the eternal world; to give virginity to the eternal woman — to shape her once again, to soften her wounds, to paint the rose again to warm her skin, to warm her heart, to make her brave with a gentle style, with a masculine audacity but at the same time with a feminine sweetness. Her. Her body. Her orgasm. And she is proud of all that! How to tease such a holy creature, I pondered that night silently with anger, shame and disgust.
Photo by Tanya Pro on Unsplash
So that night everything became like a stone inside me. I turned back a long time ago, to the handrail of the ship when I was naive and young and with washed eyes I looked at the women around me and the dishonorable ones looked so beautiful to me! But the past quickly disappeared like ghosts after the rooster crowed and in front of me there was only one figure — the eternal woman. She then bent her backbone, touched my shoulder with her hand and whispered to me in a steady voice,
“We are gathering strength against the future. We insist on the breath of anticipation. We already feel the age of hope burning our lips. In the end, we will give all women the love they deserve. “
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Marius Fiskum on Unsplash
