their first kiss was witnessed by the Seine River carrying gondolas of street lamps
reflections in its spangled folds, carrying haloed street lamps flowering on the bushes of
black laquered cobblestones, carrying silver filigree trees opened like fans beyond whose
rim the river's eyes provoked them to hidden coquetries, carrying the humid scarfs of
fog and the sharp incense of roasted chestnuts.
everything fallen into the river and carried away except the balcony on which
they stood.
their kiss was accompanied by the street organ and it lasted the whole length of
the musical score of Carmen, and when it ended it was too late; they had drunk the
potion to its last drop.
the potion drunk by lovers is prepared by no one but themselves.
the potion is the sum of one's whole existence.
every word spoken in the past accumulated forms and colors in the self. what
flows through the veins besides blood is the distillation of every act committed, the
sediment of all the visions, wishes, dreams, and experiences. all the past emotions
converge to tint the skin and flavor the lips, to regulate the pulse and produce
crystals in the eyes.
the fascination exerted by one human being over another is not what he emits
of his personality at the present instant of encounter but a summation of his entire
being which gives off this powerful drug capturing the fancy and attachment.
no moment of charm without long roots in the past, no moment of charm
is born on bare soil, a careless accident of beauty, but is the sum of great sorrows,
growths, and efforts.
but love, the great narcotic, was the hothouse in which all the selves burst
into their fullest bloom...
love the great narcotic was the revealer in the alchemist's bottle rendering
visible the most untraceable substances
love the great narcotic was the agent provocateur exposing all the secret
selves to daylight
love the great narcotic lined fingertips with clairvoyance
pumped iridescence into the lungs for transcendental x-rays
printed new geographies in the lining of the eyes
adorned words with sails, ears with velvet mutes
and soon the balcony tipped their shadows into the river, too, so that
the kiss might be baptized in the holy waters of continuity.
taken from the four-chambered heart by anais nin
what a beautiful gift to find her at this moment.
