Читать книгу War/Peace - Matthew Vandenberg - Страница 8

‘Yeah, I don’t know if I should even talk right now while she’s lookin’ right at me, starin’ me down, strickin’ me down with the gaze of a goddess. It’s a light-bulb moment when I see the whites of her eyes, bright like lamps left on in an otherwise dark room, bright like a white dress, bright like the space between the words in the transcript of my thoughts. She takes my hand in hers and smiles. This is when I get a little nervous.

‘Note the two of us, posing like daisies, note the tone, the contours of the room, the beat of the drums in the songs we sing. Note the expressions on our faces, note the notable things and then take two. It’s a beautiful picture or a beautiful scene, and she’s one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. She’s the one – none other – that Adrian spent a lifetime writing about, she’s the one who remained in Jamie’s thoughts as he traversed the globe like a ‘trotter, and the first fine girl he ever thought he had a chance with, she’s the one I can only warn you about, the rosy cheeks, a cherry blossom in the clasp of her shiny hair, fine like the string of her concentrated gaze.

‘She’s the one you could fall for if you ain’t careful. Check yourself, don’t trip. It’s a cool climate where she dwells and if you know anything about thermoregulation then you should know that you’ll freeze, experience shock and your knees will go weak, if you gaze into her eyes for too long. And should she gaze into yours her soul might just burn to a crisp. It’s simple really: you too hot, she too ethereal. Wiki this shit if my point ain’t crystal clear like the space between her and I. Listen to the soundtrack to the scene, rewind, repeat, and rewind again, type a couple thousand words on why she’s too nice for you, run away and find your refuge in the sleek, sick streets of Sydney, or on a silver screen, or behind a typewriter as you typecast yourself by typing another typical text that defines and refines your personality in just the way the way her fingers swim through her hair defines her personality, her mystique, and the presence of this apparition you now see before you.

‘The light above you dies. Flashes first – like the light on the roof of a police car – then the scene’s as dark as a diamond. You take one deep breath and then another: never before have you touched a virgin. Electricity runs through your body. No doubt energy is being transferred from your body to hers already, and this you can do nothing to stop: the first law of thermodynamics states that the flow of heat is a form of energy transfer. She shivers so you’re sure she’s still cold. But sparks fly and you bow your head in shame.

‘You begin to feel weak, but you feel fine. You drop to your knees as she pushes one, two fingers into your naked palm. Her intent, to exorcise some vile fluid from your body, and yours not too dissimilar. She recites prayers from a book of God, calmly, speaking in a manner only an angel can, presses her fingers into your skin just a little harder, and takes a deep breath. The lights flicker, now red, and a wave of this new light sweeps over the skin of the scene. You begin to weep and so does she. The ground begins to shake. But she doesn’t let go.

‘Her grip on you is intense: the grip of a lord you’ll never meet, her gaze so intense as it’s in present, her movements succinct, controlled and completely coordinated.’

I sigh, retreat, pulling my hands from the grasp of her fingers, smile, and then run from the library. I keep my balance as the ground splits between my feet. Running like Kanye I escape into the night.

‘Bye.’

******

References

1 Hold My Hand - Michael Jackson and Akon

2 She's So High - Tal Bachman

3 Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship

4 Runaway – Kanye West