THE SPIRAL LOVE

Yes, loved she was, and quite so; subsequently, all the nearest planets altered their rotational axis and their orbital paths. They had to. The tides also answered to that love with typical tidal, femenine confusion. Some birds' migration patterns changed as well. Butterflies. Absurd climate shifts. Raining toads. You name it.

But this is just normal. 

As soon as he felt the sparkle that ignited it all, that massive, vertical NOW like a ball of blue fire, his life filled up with symbols. Suddenly, he started needing things: like knowing the exact boundary, the sandy line where the earth ends and the ocean starts. Which is something he never had thought before. Also the need to absorb all the azur marine.

He also needed belonging to a place, and that place was ready for him, and the seagulls' heads all pointed in the same direction, the pier, the ship. After owning a ship, acquiring navigation know-how became an all-important matter; the magnets turned red like carnations, the compass went crazy at times, the undercurrents were hard to predict. But he had his senses and his spirits. And a handful of songs he knew by heart. And even a garden, for the quietest moments. All previous thoughts turned into feeling.

All things considered, it was a bewildering spring. Many songs spoke directly to their ears, inhabiting their days and nights. Words travelled at cosmical speed, forming streams, meticulously carving the souls into new shapes, new forms of perceiving everything.

At some point, she did not feel like steel anymore, and noticed some movement, like a click, in her insides. Something warm and distinctively human, something that she felt was hers, as she recognized pieces of her own fragmented memories. A touch. It was his hand, trying to reach her. Their world was filled with concidences that made them smile and joke. In their dreams, they met with lips and hands. They painted worlds from afar, drew brief sketches of their normalities. Disembodied and a bit lost in their own distances, they opened wide windows over the roofs, found a stream of affection and emotion in each other's words, flew to imaginary, shared spots crying to be inhabited.

And perhaps their souls were pulling sideways, in opposing directions, and perhaps that precisely may have fashioned their peculiar, seemingly eternal alliance. She shone her light on his present, like a winter moon, muted, veiled, a star of unseen beauty, casting her comforting shadow on him. He turned that serene, pale light into a red-hot glow that burns like fever and obsessions do.

Her gentle, elegant thrust, always catching him off-balance, wetting his paper flowers, undressing him of his poor words, the irrelevant, the unessential. He is becoming a wave now, up and down, cruising the ether, gaining its full amplitude. A wave that reverberates with turmoil in his spiral love, in his endless desire... Sometimes, he fears the void that feels in his heart like a splintered bundle of mirrors.

But there is also a Present, a perfect zenit without shadows, gorgeous and deep like her eyes, shining with a brand-new insight. For him, that NOW is the frontier between land and water, where all the blues reunite in a radiant embrace, if only to dissolve again and again, battered by the waves.

Sándalo Naranja