(And the rush of memories is akin to drowning, a nervous twitching need to get it down while the punishing, controlling mind, whispers maliciously, “but what about the daily grind you’re ignoring”….and the tiny crushed creative heart of things, whispers back….”do it, write, tell this story”)

She fell into the natural rhythm of the Community with ease, because of her voice. Invited to sing, with different groups, as a solo artist, fuelled by whisky and the local weed, she felt the stress and tension of her body leave. She really felt the freedom, the nature of her wild self come into being. A reckless release of ALL the years of tension….going right back to early childhood beginnings. And through the exposure, up on stage, singing smoky, sultry songs of sex and longing (1970’s JJ Cale), she would lose herself, look boldly down at him, holding nothing back, falling into his amber eyes, looking back, looking up, looking at her.
Nothing mattered but feeling….feeling every strong, hot, subtle, overt, reckless feeling.
She met him, his girlfriend….the connection was so….very …

A Street scene more than 30 years ago, plays in her mind’s eye….a sensual movie.
Coming through the Nimbin Bakery doorway, famed for their heavy Wholemeal Bread, their Lentil Pies, she sees him on the opposite side of the street….he’s heading up the hill towards the Pub. Riveted, she “takes him in, sketches him”.
Tall, beautifully boned, dirty from a long day labouring on a building site. Head thrown back, thick dust filled dark brown hair, shoulder length, brushed back, James Dean style.
Scarf around his throat, denim jacket and blue jeans, heavy work boots. His jeans, loose enough to show the shape of him, long legged ease of movement as he strides in tandem with her, relaxed and graceful as a big cat.
She is impervious to the rumours, the aura of danger, his sexual charisma holds her attention, utterly.
She feels the pull, deep in her belly. Wherever she moves in that very crowded, close knit community….there he is.
And what of his past???
Whatever sense or intelligence she may have had, before, is lost, given over to biology.
It is, always has been, simple.
She wants him.

MA©️. Winter 2018
The Falling
To be continued….


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