ZacheirII
08-24-2014, 05:08 PM
My right arm felt heavy as I walked down the lines of Shoe Boulevard 1000 in the Northward direction on a hypothetical map of Sofia. It clenched to the vintage cruz leather bag it pressed on my body.
The weather would have been a delight if the forecast channel had not declared uncertainty in their readings. It occurred to me Meteorologists were only a part of the world I lived in. Little to lean on precision and a whole lot more rests on whether or not from dally poker we play with making decisions.
Well, it was that period of the year when the trees were cheerful with the sturdy brown leaves they had grown and let them off to let through the growth of buoyantly green and yellow varieties…without the fungi.
Briefed me enough to discard the reports from the weather channel and just make my decisions as best fits. My best excuse would be that I lived in a country that was sailing the seas of self-destruct as it was torn between choosing sides with whom it wanted to engage in a treaty and trade parlay. The Iron curtain had just been lifted, and the streets were finally gaining their merits of being busy and crowded.
As the leaders tussled through their selfish intentions and investments hanging in balance, I recited the words of Sir Walter Raleigh, "If all the word and love were young, and truth in every Shepherd's tongue. These pretty pleasures might me move to live with thee and be thy love…" it was the first stanza on THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD".
My audition that morning needed every bunch of concentration I could garner and I needed that comfort to beseech myself not for me to get my head buried in thoughts of Bulgaria falling back into the hands of the Soviets, the KGB, whomever.
All that mattered was the audition, and that was just .5 hours away from happening. It created a mixed emotion in my head all week long when my mother decided to move in. I needed concentration, she needed some closure. Our needs were contextual, so was our lifestyles and views about almost everything. It was obvious we would argue endlessly and the nights would be for storytelling and correctional criticism from her. But the uneventful closeness she brought along had retarded my morale I thought would climax and skyrocket as the days drew near. Her brother had just been diagnosed of prostate cancer and it tore the family apart. I was the only one that felt so little closeness to any of the other relatives. I didn't believe there was any more to family than the last name we shared and how few were blessed to be a part of, and some cursed, however.
Unarguably, she needed to get all the closeness and care she could want from me that period but it was just so fierce and rebellious as it looked to me as though I had waited my whole life for that audition that had finally come. It was fair enough as well to give her the credit for my awareness of the ad in the first place as she had bought the daily times on whose pages similar ads had flooded…before I saw the one that pronounced the audition.'
That morning, she finally aroused a good amount of tension and followed up with the thing she did with my morale. Five, four, three, two and a day ago, she had been so demanding and that almost drove me wild. She always needed this, and that, and I had to come through. After long nights of pondering over a possible solution, I decided to clear my daily schedule of rehearsals during daytime so I hit the road to the mall and got two mugs, a mini coffee blender, some vitamin supplements and cappuccino. That kept me awake through the nights but would have me wake the following morning with bloodshot eyes and eyes being Goblin ready to listen to hours of endless reiterations of frustration from my mother.
However, that morning, it was different. She woke me and made us breakfast. Oliver egg and a four loaves of wheat bread with English tea. Her reverence had insisted on tea because she felt I needed the calm for that morning. I was ready to conquer the world, if I could, and was confident I would display a bogus show of talent with the poem. It required talent invasion for the mind of a young adult as I. Since I graduated school and knew I had a calling, and reading so many books about visual arts and theaters through my the days I lived with her. I really wanted to show the world that I could act.
I hurried down the train after twenty minutes and shot one more glance at my watch before I entered the building. I was ten minutes early and that in my opinion, was a display of diligence with punctuality. There was a burning sensation in me and some kind of anxiety at impressing everyone in the premises.
From opening the door for every female and wearing a gracious smile, to helping every old lady with her bag, and not giving the security guards a reason to throw me out! In response to my application for the audition, the PR firm had been clear enough that any violation of their environmental rules would be frowned upon and such applicant that defaults the rule will be escorted out of the premises by the Security officials. Attitude was not a problem for me, same was for every other habit a gentleman could foster.
"Hello, young man" She said.
I looked over my shoulder to see the face behind the husky female voice. She smiled and waved. I quickly recognized it was an opportunity to be nice to a lady and bowed to feel a part of my jaw clench and muttered, "Morning, Lady"
"Hmm, finally", her lashes fluttered as she responded in a calm tune, "A gentleman in Sofia"
Her words struck through my head like a earth tremble. I immediately got the drive to do a lot to impress the lady. She was lean, her smile enigmatic and the look in her eyes were provocation. She knew how to wear the look, as I tried endlessly within the spree of some seconds to define what she said through her eyes. It was impossible to even understand if her smile had meant something. But darn! It had to. She had spoken to me first. Would have been that she broke the ice but she alone noticed me, not both ways. I knew deep inside me it would have demanded any excess of courage to break any conversational ice with her. And her previous sentence made me think she was a single lady. Maybe recently heartbroken or lost hope in love? the world "finally" made me feel she felt some relief from meeting me. Did she see me as a possible success? My mind raced through a million questions and I tried helplessly to get hold of some but was unable to. My mind was lost in a hollow mirage. It was hard to think straight staring into those beautiful and innocent eyes. She was beautiful but in a whole different way. Her hands were clenched to a small folder just as my arms were with the grip of my vintage cruz leather. I stretched out my hand for a shake. "I'm Richard" I exhaled, and added, "Might not be too much of a gentleman"
She raised a brow, "good score with the sincerity upfront. I'm Julie"
At that moment, I felt as though the heavens had spoken to me. I felt I had heard the voice of the holy one. If there was a world beyond my reach where Heavenly bodies were living as humans in flesh yet maintaining their sleekness, sweetness and enchanting charm, then she had fled to the city of Sofia. I stretched out to accept her hand into mine. Her fingers were warm and smooth. Their sleekness knew no limits, no stretch, no fold, no scales, no touch of sinful humanity, I presumed.
The instant adjusted balance in my head; filled with lust, and my body was electrified with what my hands adjusted its conformity to enjoy the short solitude. She drew her hand out after a few seconds of my delusional thoughtfulness.
"Are you also here for the audition?" I asked quickly so I could initiate a conversation with the beautiful, and heavenly Julie.
She frowned, "Oh, you didn't hear it was a faux ad?"
That instant, my legs were shaking, yet firm and divided. I needed a quick grasp, I was going to throw up. My arms drew in caution as the vintage cruz leather slipped off and the scripts scattered into the air. I took the opportunity of having a free arm to draw in some breathe. So there had been no audition after all…maybe the morning was the true definition of a bad day. As my lips parted to utter words of disgust and regret, I stopped. She was right in front of me. Even though getting to know her seemed impossible, it gave me the feeling of a fulfilled morning. It struck the egg case of hope in me that something wonderful could come from the worst of times. She was the answer to the question behind a faux ad for an audition. Maybe she was my audition after all. I clenched my teeth as I searched my mind for the next thing to say before I blew it.
The weather would have been a delight if the forecast channel had not declared uncertainty in their readings. It occurred to me Meteorologists were only a part of the world I lived in. Little to lean on precision and a whole lot more rests on whether or not from dally poker we play with making decisions.
Well, it was that period of the year when the trees were cheerful with the sturdy brown leaves they had grown and let them off to let through the growth of buoyantly green and yellow varieties…without the fungi.
Briefed me enough to discard the reports from the weather channel and just make my decisions as best fits. My best excuse would be that I lived in a country that was sailing the seas of self-destruct as it was torn between choosing sides with whom it wanted to engage in a treaty and trade parlay. The Iron curtain had just been lifted, and the streets were finally gaining their merits of being busy and crowded.
As the leaders tussled through their selfish intentions and investments hanging in balance, I recited the words of Sir Walter Raleigh, "If all the word and love were young, and truth in every Shepherd's tongue. These pretty pleasures might me move to live with thee and be thy love…" it was the first stanza on THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD".
My audition that morning needed every bunch of concentration I could garner and I needed that comfort to beseech myself not for me to get my head buried in thoughts of Bulgaria falling back into the hands of the Soviets, the KGB, whomever.
All that mattered was the audition, and that was just .5 hours away from happening. It created a mixed emotion in my head all week long when my mother decided to move in. I needed concentration, she needed some closure. Our needs were contextual, so was our lifestyles and views about almost everything. It was obvious we would argue endlessly and the nights would be for storytelling and correctional criticism from her. But the uneventful closeness she brought along had retarded my morale I thought would climax and skyrocket as the days drew near. Her brother had just been diagnosed of prostate cancer and it tore the family apart. I was the only one that felt so little closeness to any of the other relatives. I didn't believe there was any more to family than the last name we shared and how few were blessed to be a part of, and some cursed, however.
Unarguably, she needed to get all the closeness and care she could want from me that period but it was just so fierce and rebellious as it looked to me as though I had waited my whole life for that audition that had finally come. It was fair enough as well to give her the credit for my awareness of the ad in the first place as she had bought the daily times on whose pages similar ads had flooded…before I saw the one that pronounced the audition.'
That morning, she finally aroused a good amount of tension and followed up with the thing she did with my morale. Five, four, three, two and a day ago, she had been so demanding and that almost drove me wild. She always needed this, and that, and I had to come through. After long nights of pondering over a possible solution, I decided to clear my daily schedule of rehearsals during daytime so I hit the road to the mall and got two mugs, a mini coffee blender, some vitamin supplements and cappuccino. That kept me awake through the nights but would have me wake the following morning with bloodshot eyes and eyes being Goblin ready to listen to hours of endless reiterations of frustration from my mother.
However, that morning, it was different. She woke me and made us breakfast. Oliver egg and a four loaves of wheat bread with English tea. Her reverence had insisted on tea because she felt I needed the calm for that morning. I was ready to conquer the world, if I could, and was confident I would display a bogus show of talent with the poem. It required talent invasion for the mind of a young adult as I. Since I graduated school and knew I had a calling, and reading so many books about visual arts and theaters through my the days I lived with her. I really wanted to show the world that I could act.
I hurried down the train after twenty minutes and shot one more glance at my watch before I entered the building. I was ten minutes early and that in my opinion, was a display of diligence with punctuality. There was a burning sensation in me and some kind of anxiety at impressing everyone in the premises.
From opening the door for every female and wearing a gracious smile, to helping every old lady with her bag, and not giving the security guards a reason to throw me out! In response to my application for the audition, the PR firm had been clear enough that any violation of their environmental rules would be frowned upon and such applicant that defaults the rule will be escorted out of the premises by the Security officials. Attitude was not a problem for me, same was for every other habit a gentleman could foster.
"Hello, young man" She said.
I looked over my shoulder to see the face behind the husky female voice. She smiled and waved. I quickly recognized it was an opportunity to be nice to a lady and bowed to feel a part of my jaw clench and muttered, "Morning, Lady"
"Hmm, finally", her lashes fluttered as she responded in a calm tune, "A gentleman in Sofia"
Her words struck through my head like a earth tremble. I immediately got the drive to do a lot to impress the lady. She was lean, her smile enigmatic and the look in her eyes were provocation. She knew how to wear the look, as I tried endlessly within the spree of some seconds to define what she said through her eyes. It was impossible to even understand if her smile had meant something. But darn! It had to. She had spoken to me first. Would have been that she broke the ice but she alone noticed me, not both ways. I knew deep inside me it would have demanded any excess of courage to break any conversational ice with her. And her previous sentence made me think she was a single lady. Maybe recently heartbroken or lost hope in love? the world "finally" made me feel she felt some relief from meeting me. Did she see me as a possible success? My mind raced through a million questions and I tried helplessly to get hold of some but was unable to. My mind was lost in a hollow mirage. It was hard to think straight staring into those beautiful and innocent eyes. She was beautiful but in a whole different way. Her hands were clenched to a small folder just as my arms were with the grip of my vintage cruz leather. I stretched out my hand for a shake. "I'm Richard" I exhaled, and added, "Might not be too much of a gentleman"
She raised a brow, "good score with the sincerity upfront. I'm Julie"
At that moment, I felt as though the heavens had spoken to me. I felt I had heard the voice of the holy one. If there was a world beyond my reach where Heavenly bodies were living as humans in flesh yet maintaining their sleekness, sweetness and enchanting charm, then she had fled to the city of Sofia. I stretched out to accept her hand into mine. Her fingers were warm and smooth. Their sleekness knew no limits, no stretch, no fold, no scales, no touch of sinful humanity, I presumed.
The instant adjusted balance in my head; filled with lust, and my body was electrified with what my hands adjusted its conformity to enjoy the short solitude. She drew her hand out after a few seconds of my delusional thoughtfulness.
"Are you also here for the audition?" I asked quickly so I could initiate a conversation with the beautiful, and heavenly Julie.
She frowned, "Oh, you didn't hear it was a faux ad?"
That instant, my legs were shaking, yet firm and divided. I needed a quick grasp, I was going to throw up. My arms drew in caution as the vintage cruz leather slipped off and the scripts scattered into the air. I took the opportunity of having a free arm to draw in some breathe. So there had been no audition after all…maybe the morning was the true definition of a bad day. As my lips parted to utter words of disgust and regret, I stopped. She was right in front of me. Even though getting to know her seemed impossible, it gave me the feeling of a fulfilled morning. It struck the egg case of hope in me that something wonderful could come from the worst of times. She was the answer to the question behind a faux ad for an audition. Maybe she was my audition after all. I clenched my teeth as I searched my mind for the next thing to say before I blew it.