Once again, the start. Nothing more original than the regular: “There I was”. But it works to start things off, and as usual; there I was.
Last few hours of the year. I needed people around me. Not necessarily my family or friends from Budapest. But to see and maybe, find, meet anything new. The idea was to go to the Tilos Party. Why, you ask? It was cheap entry and seemed like a good idea to hang around for those odd hours. Screw the planning, let’s go.
Dead-rabbit-ass that I tend to be, I was sitting there alone, at the hearth of the venue, even almost before it opened it’s doors. So it didn’t take long before I let myself slip into becoming a photog once again for a random event. My free pass to the in-between world. Not part of the crew, but also not a lonely drinking sod.
Step by step, hour after hour, time went by. The magic moment passed almost unnoticed. I’m still not sure at what time we passed into the next year. All I know is that at one moment the urge came, after seeing almost everybody else with champagne, that I also wanted to raise a glass of the bubblies in celebration. Fuck, this is also the beauty of it. Do whatever the damn you please with the means that you got. With this in mind, I became the proud owner of a bottle of champagne and glass to match. A big plastic bowl of soup later, not to mention the slight notion that I had enough alcohol in my system. This was somewhere around I have absolutely no idea what moment it could have been, we noticed each other. Or at least I did consciously notice that I was noticed. If I would take the effort I could find that exact moment at the hand of my photographs. As it turned out, I do have, after trashing the unelectable, two images of her. But what the hell does it matter? It was a while after my soup outside, that I stopped photographing and reacted at the above mentioned whatever urge that found it’s way around that twisted block of timber that is my lovely reaction time around these situations.
The monster was clipped to my belt and we started dancing, introduced to one and another, took a couple of drinks while chatting and enjoying. In what order this went down I haven’t got the foggiest, but it turned into the first kisses and more talking and the conclusion that the night should be spent together. At her place, since I am enjoying the full comfort of sleeping on a couch at the fatherly home.
The look in her eyes, the movement of her lips. The hint of enjoyment for the stolen seconds. You already know what is going to happen, but that also doesn’t matter, yet. Jumping to my, hmm…that sentence stream isn’t going to make it. Let’s recap this. The close-up shot that slowly transfers to a wide angle of her smiling down on me from the gallery a few hours (?) prior. The first conscious contact went seemingly by, sobering soup and last shot in the tent. Step up to her and from that, it went along. The most amazing thing was that she waited for me as long as it took to get my backpack and gear in order. A last greeting to Tilos and we were gone.
The rest of the story has a number of ways to be told. I could start bragging, but that would be hardly just. Trying to write it in the classy ways of a romance novel would be equally silly.
Maybe analyze it and just pour it out like that.
Anyhow, none of this would be fitting the nature of the happening. Let’s see if it makes any sense if I tell how it finished. At the tram station an hour after noon. Ten minutes till the next yellow tram.
We were both whispering for a couple of hours by then. Said goodbye, gave the last kisses, wished a happy new year to each other for the last time. Smiled and she walked away.
Not looking back. For my part, I put on some music and started walking towards the bus station a couple of hundred meters away. This is a good way to start a year. But the reality must be applied gradually, so let’s go back a bit in time once more. Probably, this is becoming a bit of a bore for you, but some things have to be done. For example my attempt to badly transfer my experience of that evening and by that also annoying the hell out of you by dragging this bit a little bit further while writing in random bars and places.
As I started this bit at the end, and the start was written elaborately. It is now time to explore the center of it. She. Lean, long dark red hair and a playful thin smile. Soft.
Bottle of wine opened, spritzers in tall wine glasses. The ingredients scored at a 24/7 store a while back. Clothes were disappearing before the first round was emptied. Glasses standing at both sides of the bed, within arm’s reach.
Curves of her body, her hair, the way she tinkered with my fingers. Her coughing while we tried to sleep and rest. My hand on her back.
Kiss, her accent and the whispering. The cat who wanted attention above all. Sex. One night love.
That’s all you get.
It’s four days later by now and I am disappearing once again from the land of fresh grass, clear water, and the white horse. As this piece rambles on, I am still enjoying it.
The sensuality, the clean physicality and small gestures in her bed. Mind you, I don’t carry a torch. Probably won’t meet her ever again.
It’s the gift of that night that keeps me hanging around. This was maybe a bit cheesy. Maybe I am just thinking too much about it this time around.
