A female Chinese student and I are walking to class. We are talking about some meaningless math problem. A young man embraces a young female. My Chinese colleague stops in midstride, and says "isn't that romantic?"
Yes it was, my friend.
This post was composed listening to Miles Davis' "Blue in Green." Any man or woman who does not appreciate life, love, sex, TV and all of the other beautiful things in this world after listening to "Blue in Green" is dead.
Talking
They were walking in the park. They were holding hands. She was talking about something. Some moment in her meaningless day that did not warrant conversation. He was faithfully acting like he cared while the Spring fragrances aroused him.
He thought about love. Was this love? Or was it the idea of being in love? Did it matter? A woman was holding his hand telling him forgettable details about her mundane life. She was not the woman of his dreams, but she was a woman who didn’t mind holding his hand on a beautifully scented Spring night.
He decided one could never be sure about love. One could definitely not rely on word of mouth. He had spouted out ‘love you’ far too many times to believe in one’s voice. Actions were what mattered.
He decided to take action. He grabbed his partner. He wrapped his arms around her. He passionately kissed her lips. He forced her against a nearby tree. His hand sneaked up her blouse. Her hands grasped his buttocks.
The embrace did not last for more than thirty seconds, but it ended the talking.
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