Looking Left

The mountains were on my side. The valley was on her side. In that late afternoon the town in that valley made for good viewing. So, I looked to my left. Perhaps, for potential evening conversations, which are less of a reality and more of wishful thinking, I captured an image in my mind of the town: a description, if I ever am asked.

One glance was enough, because, villages in valleys can be explained away, easily. Few want to know the details. They want you to recreate the romantic aspect of your feeling, so that those who listen, can make it their own. My embellishment of what I only glanced at, allows me to cover over half-an-hour of a conversation in the city.

So, I captured a quick image of the village in the valley for future use. And I continued to stare at her. She was also looking at that village in the valley. Looking at her looking away at the valley has to be the best moment ever. I see her neck, and a slice of her cheek. I do not see her lips, nothing of her nose. And absolutely nothing of her eyes. I do a quick check on this lonely road; like the few kilometres before, no vehicle seems to be oncoming or wanting to overtake. We seem to have this majestic mountain to ourselves.

She is still looking at the valley. I am still looking at her. I see the valley too, but it seems to me that I have different eyes. I am seeing the valley through her eyes. The road winds treacherously along the mountain folds, and I watch the bends carefully and navigate them well. Even when I am not directly looking at her, I see her.

She is a beach person; I am a mountain person. I look away from her. I focus on the curves (of the road, my dear friend)

And we are different, I know. She is fluid like the waves. I am fixed like the folds on the mountains. When we reach our destination, the waves and the folds will become one. That’s how I imagine us becoming one.

Perhaps, not.

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