Post Script of a Life-Long Novel

Artwork: Dela <3

She wasn't wearing anything fancy; in fact, she was wearing rugged. A thin old cotton small gown that had a tiny frill along its square-cut neck and little greyish buttons all to its bottom so it feels like a long shirt. Unless you give it a good ironing, the plackets are naturally stubborn, quite possibly from sheer negligence or from the old-age, that when she wears the gown, the spaces between buttons always turn in to tiny oval-shaped windows. Perhaps only a Shaolin-trained eye could not be tempted to look through those just to catch a glimpse all the way from her olive-skinned breasts to her secret-keeping thighs: but then again, who could possibly know! She didn't care much to close the windows either. She was a shy girl with bold feelings and of course as these two cannot coexist, one kicked the other to a corner. She became one with nature and that wasn't hard at all; it was actually easier than all the bonding she tried with every human being that crossed paths in her journey. He was a passer-by she thought once. But he was as stubborn as her, maybe more. After all the hurricanes, hailstorms, blizzards, storms, tender rains, drizzles, and rainbows they've walked through, she finally was sitting facing him with a green smoke between her slender, long-nailed fingers. They were both tired: they were as exhausted as much as they were relieved, now that they've won. All these years of battle, not once he held her close while sitting on this sacred place of theirs. She didn't know why exactly but she was not in a hurry until that moment arrives. After all, there is a time and a place for everything. After centuries of waiting, that is if you have that elvish patience to wait for centuries, there comes that moment in time when the time becomes now and the place becomes here. They were there, and they knew it from the depth of their very being. He made the tenderest, most spontaneous of all moves and held her close. She moved like a blade of grass in the wind, without a single resistance. Every single fiber of her body was obeying the wind; she was conscious of it. A conscious blade of grass. He was warm and she was freezing. But gradually she felt the ice caps melting and crashing down at the ocean, splashing blue waters and snow-white bubbles all over her universe. The sun and the moon were both there to witness it. She looked up at him, getting cozy in his cosmic hammock. He was looking at her, carefully, taking his time, breathing in the moment and breathing out his soul.
"I wanted to have you, here, like this for so long. and you know I am centuries old." She knew he was. "Now that you have me, here, like this, what will you do?"
"Move my fingers, like Jimmy Page on guitar"
"Then play Whole Lotta Love."

-Uththara-