The First Glance
The first glance; what is the thinking behind that first glance. Most of us have experienced it at some point in our lives, surely something there, is a prerequisite for a feeling; and it generally appears out of nothing.
Well, I woke one morning, in a fairly content mood, having spent the previous evening amongst some very flamboyant and gripping talks. The air was hot with the tropics, so the usual sticky feeling was felt as I wondered out of my room down to breakfast.
The dining room was set up with a long table and two sofas. Sat among those at the table was a much literate, ex US army man. He was articulate and knew how to process an argument, though lacked awareness in other areas. These details are, however, not necessary. I sat opposite him and other fellow travelers, and listened in on the conversations while I ordered a baguette and tea.
I’m not one to stare, but I couldn’t help notice a painful looking mark on a girls face, whom sat cheerfully next to the Literate American. We all happened on to the topic of her facial scar, and it turned out it was all fueled by her adrenaline to be the best and quickest motorbike driver. As well as her face, she had reminders on her legs and arms. I felt sorry for her.
‘How do you think I ended up with this on my face?’ was her flying comment towards me. I quickly averted my eyes and covered my smirking face within my hands. Though I must admit, my persona has this get out jail card, which I seem to automatically play when I find myself in such situations.
The first glance ensued. I knew this girl (whom we became acquainted thereafter, but shall remain anonymous) would somehow light a spark within me, one that has been lacking for some time now.
“The first glance ensued.”
‘Would you care for some tea?’ I asked. ‘I have some left but just cannot finish it all’.
‘Why yes, I would love some tea’, she responded.
This was spoken in a true English sense, and I was markedly impressed by the Dutchie’s queens’ English, though i always feel, even upon agreement with my father, that most Dutch people speak better English than the common man.
I mean, I’ve even mistook Dutch people for English folk. But I don’t know, does that make me an ignorant fool? Perhaps. Do you ever have those really insightful conversations, the type where you can just feel your mind bouncing with life, and you only realize you’re ignorant momentarily? You just need that mental test more often.
Did I ever stop to consider whether a house has even been finished. The use of a gable — the front or back end of a rooftop — can merely be placed to fool those below. It can never be known when, you, the house owner, desire more floors for your abode. There isn’t anything not worth considering.
Standing on one of these gabled rooftops, under watch from the glowering moon, and mass conglomeration of stars and lights, I found myself in the presence of a remarkable woman.
The moon is marvelous, you can be literate or illiterate as you like, yet the moon has this ability to just evoke huge swathes of emotion. In this case I’d like to mark the moment as a romantic episode, an episode, as such it only lasted for one night.
What happened next, is probably not of interest. We kissed; it was a piece of magic.
Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this, and I hope you enjoyed it. I’m always striving to improve my writing, so any comments would be much appreciated :-)
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