A spring Love Letter from Williamsburg to Roksy

My mornings’ bagel-mania has plumped my cheeks up. My appetite is voracious.   My eyes are twinkling, my skin is glowing.  I look surprisingly healthy, even though I hardly sleep. What’s stranger, I get constantly high for very odd reasons with no drugs.

Okay, I am lifting the veil of mystery. You were right. Yes, I met someone. I have fallen prey to Love. Oh girl, is he special! So special that he gives me goose bumps everywhere! It’s has been 2 and a half months, but I still can’t get enough of him. I am insatiable.

I am enlightened; my whole existence is elevated by his presence. My heart sinks and melts like butter on toasted bread each time I see him.  When he opens his humongous arms, I sheepishly but entirely surrender myself to him. Like an exploration ship, I explore every inch of him zealously, I drink him, his inexhaustible, boundless fountain of energy. And I get charged, and I myself become untiring; riding him in ecstasy, I prolong, delay the culmination, until I can carry him no more, until he fills me in so much that it starts pouring out from every part of my body. And only then we disentangle. He lets me go back to my temporary shelter to refuel.  Drained, worn out but blissful, for it’s a pleasant fatigue I pass out for a couple of hours to be fresh and agile to embrace him the next day again.

He has been shifting my perception, attitudes, ideas, opening a horizon of my mind wider and wider. He is giving me master classes on life. Because of him I started doing really awkward things like flirting, smiling and engaging in conversations with complete strangers. He makes me smile so much that I am might break into wrinkles. He breeds love in me.  He has infected me with kindness. My heart is like a flower bud opening gradually more and more with a new day.

But he is of a dual nature.  And, when a small volcano erupts, a hiding monster wakes up. A hunting season begins. A hunter goes out to look for a prey. His disposition swings, his behavior turning erratic.  For no particular reason he rages like a stormy sea.

So far he has been treating me softly (I should touch the wood) but like any other male creatures his disposition is unpredictable.. In fact, it’s only a matter of time until our affair will turn around and he will turn his back to me.  He exercises fame and status. Everybody wants to go on a ride with him and hang out with him. The competition is fierce.

I wish you could have a rendezvous with him and his outrageous jocular entourage – merry street performers, swinging saxophonists, chilled lady drummers, electric violinists, young rebellious vocalists and all that jazz.   Rapture!  Spring is knocking on the door, and very soon he will be wearing green clothing, start blossoming. And I will inhale his spring bouquet of lemon grass and tea rose. And I will steal that moment.  He is New York. New York in the Spring!

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