perfect strangers

the weekend was to be spent with 6 other people. a variety, a multi layered group of unconventional 30-somethings. the house was by the beach, yawning lazily under the sun. the garden was beautiful in its colourful splendour and i touched the petunias thankfully. the touch yearning for more than flowers. the porch big, almost spreading into the seafront, welcoming the hungry souls. more butter pecan cookies, some lamb, shavings of parmesan and connaiseurs of trouble. the rites of passage. the inconvinient growing up to be different. coffee was to be taken outdoors. the sun, still blazing even higher, some scents unfamiliar and extreme eagerness to change out of these clothes. A was toying with N. G was mindful of the house chores and S along with M were taking a walk.

the sounds of summer were already touching base with us.

later on that night the unveiling began. having fun with people is excellent. having fun with people who are so different yet so similar is an exciting prosect. there was teasing. some moments of awkwardness and stiffness. we were just beginning to familiarise ourselves with each other. how does M take her coffee? how does G sleep at night and does D snore? the answer is yes by the way.... the windows were thrown open. the coffee was resting in our mugs and some delicious fruit surfaced. ice tea would be a treat right now. i thought of those afternoons in new york. it was never the same, it didnt quite taste the same since. basil with lemon. vanilla and trimmings of jasmin. the night was to be glorious. stars and stars aligned themselves with my hope for a resurrection. the brighter ones overshadowing the little ones. some were fooling around and fell off the sky. i made a wish.

the church was lit up like a birthday cake candle. some were chatting, others were listening to the priest's desperate endeavour with the holy. the old woman in the corner is praying and as i look up at the bells my neck cracks. some unexpected sounds from the altar. a fire starts next to us, judas is to be burnt. scapegoats were always in fashion. these days especially since the mighty blame the poor and vice versa. kids are buzzing around the fire, the priest is furthering his anxiety and some youngsters are flirting. kids today. i sigh.

later on that night dinner was delicious. lamb was served in extreme portions, the red painted eggs were rolling around in the baskets and the wine tickled our tongues. i am sitting across from D. i tell them about my egg. it was in second grade and i bet they wont forget it. when little, you seek for friendship. when older you seek and hope to find companionship. when does one know? when does one stop to pursue this? does it ever come to an end or is this danielle steel novel without an ending? i smoke too much. its not good - i'm nervous. why?

later on that evening we decide to play. play with words. with each other. i learn from this and i enjoy learning. some therapy sessions later and having S conduct and mildly orchestrate the conversation i hit my head on a wall. its like the chinese wall. long and restrictive. there's an attarction. he might not even know. then there's acknowledgement.

"you are creating some memories this weekend...."

what is it about perfect strangers? is anonymity sacred and should therefore be the basis of a common understanding between two souls seeking companionship? I admire his aura, his hands as they wave about. he speaks mildly and gently and then rises to a crescendo like a flower looking towards the sun. he can be loud too. whats loud though is his voice in my head. the sound of his laughter. he teases me and i enjoy that. i smoke too much. i have a sip of my drink. i really shouldnt have had that extra serving of champignons. butterflies or champignons? questions and answers. we play truth or dare. the sound of a chair awakens me. G gets up to go to the toilet. he really has worked hard today. preparing a meal and everything.

all these memories. i feel like a jar of honey. there's a sweet sensation inside. i think it might be showing on the outside. is this me? or is it him? hoping it could be us.

here's to hope
here's to the unexpected