Fruit of the Loop

January 15th, 2014

Pablo looked back towards the house
With the broken windows
Had he gone too far
Had he gone too slow
Had he gone elsewhere
He still had the bittersweet taste of his performance last night.
He had been marvelous. He knew it. He had given it his all. He had put all he had in his character. He had felt deeper and stronger than his character. He had felt every blow, every hurt, every pain, and then, he had felt all the joy, the happiness, the awakening of a new love, the cruelty, but mainly the beauty of it all.
His lean and strong members had not betrayed him. He had managed to create the perfect union between his muscles, his heart and his soul for yet another moment of magic.
How he loved the stage, how he loved dancing, how he loved the audience, the applause, the symbiosis between him and them while he danced and jumped and took them far away with him in his dream world. How he carried the whole hall in his arms and took them with him in his fantasies. The love they shared with him, the energy in the room.
He had danced everywhere, he had danced everything. His feet had rebounded on so many different floors, wooden, cement, stones, tiles, barren earth.
Yesterday’s piece was amongst the most beautiful he had ever danced. It had been created especially for him. By his ex. It had been born from a moment of such intense passion. Both him and Frederic knew only he could dance the piece, regardless of his age and physical shape, only he would ever be able to dance the new-born piece to perfection. It was him, it was Frederic, it was all they stood for, it was the fruit of the union of the phenomenal love they had for each other.  To the sound of music playing in the background they were giving each other proofs of their eternal love every day.  The dance was being born, modelled, re-modelled according to the whims of their bodies and embraces. They were continuously moving, from one stage to another, never blocking the flow, never suspending the moves, never ceasing to love. The music was playing in loop now. They were noosed around each other, they were hooked on one another, breathing the same air, smiling the same smile, floating in the same surreal universe.
Pablo was dancing on and off stage, his whole life had been completely overtaken by both passions. One stronger than the other, each instant of life lived to its fullest, to the brink. He was in a constant state of elevation, gliding with grace and elegance through this animal joy he had been feeding on all the time his relationship had lasted. When one passion died, the other one kept him going through the intermittent stages until the next. He could still feed from it for years thereafter, constantly satiated with a feeling of unequalled love, strength and power.
Looking back at the house with the broken windows brought all these memories back.  His biggest passion had been born and had ended behind those broken windows, behind those dark and sullied walls.

Last night had been his last performance. His last communion with his beloved audience. His last heavenly reunion.

No lover had lasted as long as his career. But his passion for both had. He was now walking past it all, wondering where passion would take him next.

alexsdavid

(January 15th, 2014)

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